She spoke to Donald in a low voice, then the collie began to work the sheep up into a heap; Bess assisting with her sharp yap.
"Now they're ready," said Ida. "You must be quick."
Stafford began to count, but the sheep moved and the ones he had counted got mixed up with the others, and he began again and yet again, until he turned with a puzzled and furrowed brow.
"I can't count them," he said. "They won't keep still for a single moment."
She turned to him with a smile.
"There are fifty-two," she said.
"Do you mean to say that you've counted them already?" he exclaimed.
"Yes; I could have counted them twice over by this time. Now, begin again, and begin from the farthest row; and remember when you come to a black one. Keep your eye on that one and start again front him. It's quite easy when you know how." He began again.
"I make it forty-eight."
She shook her head and laughed.