The lace collar was fastened by a bit of green chenille she sometimes wore at her throat, and which had doubtless been the snake of her dream.
Lonely, frightened, and cold as she was, Gypsy's sense of the ludicrous overcame her at that, and she broke into a little laugh.

That laugh seemed to drive away the mystery and terror of her situation, in spite of the curious sound it had in echoing over the lonely water; and Gypsy set herself to work with her usual good sense to see how matters stood.
"In the first place," she reasoned, talking half aloud for the sake of the company of her own voice, "I've had a fit of what the dictionary calls somnambulism, I suppose.

I eat too much pop-corn after supper, and that's the whole of it,--it always makes me dream,--only I never was goose enough to get out of bed before, and I rather think it'll be some time before I do again.

I came down stairs softly, and out of the back door.

Nobody heard me, and of course nobody will hear me till morning, and I'm in a pretty fix.