When there was business or frolic afoot , Kim would use his properties , returning at dawn to the veranda , all tired out from shouting at the heels of a marriage procession , or yelling at a Hindu festival . Sometimes there was food in the house , more often there was not , and then Kim went out again to eat with his native friends . As he drummed his heels against Zam-Zammah he turned now and again from his king-of-the-castle game with little Chota Lal and Abdullah the sweetmeat-seller 's son , to make a rude remark to the native policeman on guard over rows of shoes at the Museum door . 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 . The Mussalmans pushed them off . Thy father was a pastry-cook -- ' He stopped ; for there shuffled round the corner , from the roaring Motee Bazar , such a man as Kim , who thought he knew all castes , had never seen .
He was nearly six feet high , dressed in fold upon fold of dingy stuff like horse-blanketing , and not one fold of it could XXXXX refer to any known trade or profession .
Abdullah Curator Hindu Hindus House Kim Mussalmans Singh castes pastry-cook