'The child is not well fed.' 'He sickens at everything, and his mother is not here.' 'If it be permitted, I may cure, Holy One.' 'What! Have they made thee a healer?
Wait here,' said the lama, and he sat down by the Jat upon the lowest step of the temple, while Kim, looking out of the corner of his eyes, slowly opened the little betel-box.

He had dreamed dreams at school of returning to the lama as a Sahib--of chaffing the old man before he revealed himself--boy's dreams all.

There was more drama in this abstracted, brow-puckered search through the tabloid-bottles, with a pause here and there for thought and a muttered invocation between whiles.

Quinine he had in tablets, and dark brown meat-lozenges--beef most probably, but that was not his business.

The little thing would not eat, but it sucked at a lozenge greedily, and said it liked the salt taste.
'Take then these six.' Kim handed them to the man.