But still poor Buté, accustomed from her infancy to hear lies, could not but think herself hardly dealt with. Had her lie got any one into trouble, had she slandered a companion, she would have seen that sin had been committed; “But what did it signify,” thought she, “whether I said truly that the chaddar had been given to me by my father; or untruly, that it had been given to me by the Mem Sahiba?” As Buté turned weeping to go to her room, the Miss Sahiba heard her murmur between her sobs, “Why does she make such a fuss? What harm could the lie do? it was such a little one!”