"I was asleep, I guess," Kitty returned; "anyway I dreamed that I wanted to jump in the red geranium sea,—so I jumped."
"You jumped! out of the window?"
"Yes,—that is, off of the little balcony. You see, I was asleep until I landed. Then I found out where I was."
Kitty was quite calm about it, and cuddled into the folds of Cousin Ethel's satin cloak, while she told her story.
"Of course, I shouldn't have jumped if I had been awake," she said; "but you can't help what you do in your sleep, can you?"
"No," said Uncle Steve; "you weren't a bit to blame, Kitsie, and I'm thankful you came down so safely. But I think that window must be fastened before you go to sleep again. One such escapade is enough for one night."
The other guests on the veranda looked curiously at the group, but Kitty was protected from view by her own people, and, too, the big cloak hid all deficiencies of costume.
"Well, we have to get used to these unexpected performances," said Mr. Maynard, "but I do believe my children are more ingenious than others in trumping up new games."
"We are," said Kitty, "but usually it's Midget who does the crazy things. King and I don't cut up jinks much."
"That's so," agreed Uncle Steve. "Last summer Miss Mischief kept us all in hot water. But this year, Kitsie has been a model of propriety. She never walks out of second-story windows when she's at our house. I guess I'd better take her back there."