'Where is he? Is he well? Oah! If he knows to write me letters, it is all right.'
'You're fond of him then?'
'Of course I am fond of him. He was fond of me.'
'It seems so by the look of this. He can't write English, can he?'
'Oah no. Not that I know, but of course he found a letter-writer who can write English verree well, and so he wrote. I do hope you understand.'
'That accounts for it. D'you know anything about his money affairs?' Kim's face showed that he did not.
'How can I tell?'
'That's what I'm askin'. Now listen if you can make head or tail o' this. We'll skip the first part. . . . It's written from Jagadir Road. . . . "Sitting on wayside in grave meditation, trusting to be favoured with your Honour's applause of present step, which recommend your Honour to execute for Almighty God's sake. Education is greatest blessing if of best sorts. Otherwise no earthly use." Faith, the old man's hit the bull's-eye that time. "If your Honour condescending giving my boy best educations Xavier" (I suppose that's St. Xavier in Partibus) "in terms of our conversation dated in your tent 15th instant" (a business-like touch there!) "then Almighty God blessing your Honour's succeedings to third an' fourth generation and"—now listen!—"confide in your Honour's humble servant for adequate remuneration per hoondie per annum three hundred rupees a year to one expensive education St. Xavier, Lucknow, and allow small time to forward same per hoondie sent to any part of India as your Honour shall address himself. This servant of your Honour has presently no place to lay crown of his head, but going to Benares by train on account of persecution of old woman
