The big Punjabi grinned tolerantly: he knew Kim of old.

So did the water-carrier, sluicing water on the dry road from his goat-skin bag.

So did Jawahir Singh, the Museum carpenter, bent over new packing-cases.

So did everybody in sight except the peasants from the country, hurrying up to the Wonder House to view the things that men made in their own province and elsewhere.

The Museum was given up to Indian arts and manufactures, and anybody who sought wisdom could ask the Curator to explain.
'Off! Off! Let me up!' cried Abdullah, climbing up Zam-Zammah's wheel.
'Thy father was a pastry-cook, Thy mother stole the ghi,' sang Kim.
'All Mussalmans fell off Zam-Zammah long ago!' 'Let me up!' shrilled little Chota Lal in his gilt-embroidered cap.
His father was worth perhaps half a million sterling, but India is the only democratic land in the world.
'The Hindus fell off Zam-Zammah too.