“Ah! He is jealous, so jealous. I wonder if he will try to poison me again in my breakfast, and make me cook it twice.
“Kubbee—kubbee nahin,” came the broken answer.
“And whether he will kill this other boy?”
“Kubbee—kubbee nahin.” (Never—never. No!)
“What do you think he will do?” He turned suddenly on Kim.
“Oah! I do not know. Let him go, perhaps. Why did he want to poison you?”
“Because he is so fond of me. Suppose you were fond of someone, and you saw someone come, and the man you were fond of was more pleased with him than he was with you, what would you do?”
Kim thought. Lurgan repeated the sentence slowly in the vernacular.
“I should not poison that man,” said Kim reflectively, “but I should beat that boy—if that boy was fond of my man. But first, I would ask that boy if it were true.”
“Ah! He thinks everyone must be fond of me.”