If the water had not been deep she could have waded ashore; but her practised ear told her, from the sound of the little waves against her hand, that wading was not to be thought of.

To be sure, Gypsy could swim; but a walk of half a mile in drenched clothes was hardly preferable to sitting still in a dry boat, to say nothing of the inconvenience of swimming in crinoline, and on a dark night.
No, there was nothing to be done but to sit still till morning.
Having come to this conclusion, Gypsy gave another little shiver, and slipped down into the bottom of the boat, thinking she might lie with her head under the stern-seat, and thus be somewhat shielded from the chilly air.

In turning up her sack-collar, to protect her throat, she touched something soft, which proved to be the lace collar.

This led her to examine her dress.

She now noticed for the first time that one stocking was drawn up over her hand,--the other she had probably lost on the way,--and that she had put her bare feet into rubber-boots.