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reverberated through the house. I resumed sweeping, working my way from one end of the narrow hall to the other with deliberate and controlled strokes.
Swish … swish … swish
… and then
… ping!
    My ears perked up. I looked around for the source of the noise. It had come from under the big bookcase. I lay down and, cheek to floor, swept my palm along the floor from end to end. But I found only dust balls. I probed deeper with the broom and …
ping!
Aha!
    My heart fluttered as I wrapped my fingers around theobject. Was it a coin that might buy me two tablespoons of sweet and sour
churan
wrapped up in newspaper? I pulled my hand out and opened it.
    Na!
It was not a coin at all!
    Underneath the dust, the lost ring sparkled. Nine, ten, eleven stones and a tiny pit where the twelfth one once was. No matter—eleven stones were good too. I rubbed them against my
lengha
until the ring sparkled, just as it always had on Little Bibi’s third finger.
    I had found it: the very same ring Little Bibi had accused me of stealing yesterday! “Here it is!” I could tell her. “I found it where you dropped it, don’t you know?”
    But would Little Bibi then throw her arm around my neck and cry, “Sweet Basanta, you are invited to my next birthday?” Would she say, “How kind you are to fluff up my pillow and fetch my soft slippers”?
Na!
    I pressed my thumb against the stones. They glittered like the pomegranate seeds in Little Bibi’s bowl.
    Little Bibi was a rich girl. She had a pile of nice things. Nice clothes … nice bed … nice books … and soon, her mother had promised her a bigger and better ring.
    I threaded my finger into the golden halo. It fit perfectly.
    “Basanta!”
    With shaky fingers, I took the ring off and slid it into my
choli.
    “Oh! Amma?”
    “
Aiyyo!
Why so jumpy?”
    “It’s just … my back hurts from bending,” I lied.
    “Tch,”
Amma clucked. “Rest it a while. I’ll finish up in …”
    I escaped from the room before my mother could finish, my heart beating like a drum. In the Big Kitchen, Tikki was imprisoned under my baby sister’s arm. Durga was asleep; her rounded stomach rose and fell, and she didn’t stir when I lifted her arm gingerly and retrieved my doll.
    “There’s a hole in her stomach,” I had remarked when Little Bibi first gave Tikki to me.
    “It’s only a little one, silly!” she had replied. “And her eyes don’t close properly. Otherwise, she’s perfectly fine for you.”
    Yes, Tikki was perfectly fine for me—and a perfectly fine hiding place for the ring. I pushed my treasure into the hole in her middle, then hid my doll in the kindling pile, under a bunch of newspapers.

    I sat in the shade of the henna bushes listening to crows screaming in the mango tree. The clock in the station tower rang four times. Little Bibi would soon return from school. She’d want me to put her school dress away and bring her biscuits to eat. But for now, I could have a little rest.
    My heart was still racing in my chest and two voices were clamoring in my head.
Oi!
said one.
What have you done, hanh
?
Are you not now the thief Little Bibi said you were?
And the other voice said,
Oo ma! Little Bibi is a very rich girl
and she’s getting a better ring for her birthday and you will not be invited because you never are!
I held both my hands to my ears and repeated a song Little Bibi had taught me. She said it was a rhyme people from
Inglistan
sang to their children.
    JaknJil went updha hilltu
    Fetchha pel of vaaater
    Jak felldown an brokhis crownan
    Jil com tumblin aaafter aaafter aaafter
    I sang it over and over again. I thought singing would calm my worried heart. But I was wrong.

Chapter 6

    T he clock struck five and Amma and I opened the Big Gate to go home. It had been a long day, filled with curious happenings and jumbled-up feelings. I felt like I was in a dream inside a dream inside a dream
    The walk home seemed unusually long. How many more steps until I could run to