Bhramar. "Your necks."
Then with one voice the maids exclaimed, "What is our fault? What have we done? We know well that we are sure to get the blame for anything that happens, no matter who did it. We have to work our bodies to death to get our food, simply because we can't help ourselves." And with this two or three covered their eyes and wept. A wailing arose as though one of them had lost a son. Bhramar was vexed, but she could not help laughing, and said, "You deserve a rope round your necks because you have not yet told me what it is all about. What has happened?"
Then again all round about were shouted four or five different versions of the story. With much pains Bhramar extracted from that endless chatter the essence of the matter, that during the previous night a theft had been committed in the Kartâ's sleeping chamber. One said, "Not a theft, but a robbery." Another said, "A burglary." A third, "No, only four or five thieves came and carried off a lakh of rupees in Company's paper."
