Gypsy had fallen back on the pillow, almost asleep again. She roused
herself with a little jump.

"See _here_!"

"Ow! how you frightened me," said Joy, with another jump.

[Illustration]

"Did I? Oh, well"—silence. "I don't see"—another silence—"what you
wear my rubber—rubber boots for."

"Your rubber boots! Gypsy Breynton, you're sound asleep."

"Asleep!" said Gypsy, sitting up with a jerk, and rubbing both fists
into her eyes. "I'm just as wide awake as you are. Oh, why, you're
dressed!"

"Just found that out?" Joy broke into a laugh, and Gypsy, now quite
awake, joined in it merrily. For the first time a vague notion came to
her that she was rather glad Joy came. It might be some fun, after all,
to have somebody round all the time to—in that untranslatable girls'
phrase—"carry on with."

"But I don't see what's up," said Gypsy, winking and blinking like an
owl to keep her eyes open.

"Why, I was afraid father'd get off before I was awake, so I was
determined he shouldn't. I guess I kept waking up pretty much all night
to see if it wasn't time."