The sweeper shuffled off in haste . ` There is a white boy by the barracks waiting under a tree who is not a white boy , ' he stammered to the first bazar letter-writer he came across . ` He needs thee . ' ` Will he pay ? ' said the spruce scribe , gathering up his desk and pens and sealing-wax all in order . ' I do not know . He is not like other boys . Go and see . It is well worth . ' Kim danced with impatience when the slim young Kayeth hove in sight . As soon as his voice could carry he cursed him volubly . ` First I will take my pay , ' the letter-writer said . ` Bad words have made the price higher . But who art thou , dressed in that fashion , to speak in this fashion ? ' ` Aha ! That is in the letter which thou shalt write . Never was such a tale . But I am in no haste . Another writer will serve me . Umballa city is as full of them as is Lahore . '
` Four annas , ' XXXXX the writer , sitting down and spreading his cloth in the shade of a deserted barrack-wing .
Go carry cursed danced made pay said speak take waiting