Billy looked so shocked that Cricket hastened to add:
"There weren't very many people who saw me, though, for we sat pretty far back. I did listen to the sermon after that, though. I had only counted up to two hundred. I just wonder how many hairs a person has on his head, anyway. I mean a person with the regular amount."
"Three hundred?" hazarded Billy, hazily.
"No, indeed; more than that. Many as a thousand, I guess. Oh, Billy, you have a splendid lot of hair! S'pose I count it this afternoon?"
Billy chuckled assent.
"Let's go out in the orchard, back of the beach. It's all quiet and shady there. The girls will be down by the rocks, and the boys are going for a long walk. So there will be nobody to interrupt us. It will take most all the afternoon, I guess, but I've always wanted to know how many hairs grow on a person's head. I'll come for you after dinner, Billy, don't forget!" and, having arrived at the house, Cricket skipped up the porch steps, and went up-stairs to relieve herself of the bondage of her pink organdie as soon as possible.
After dinner, Cricket found her willing slave waiting for her on the piazza.
"Let's go right off before the others come out, for we don't want a whole raft of children after us," she said, and so they went around the house, through the side gate, into the orchard.
"Here's a lovely, shady spot. You sit right down on this hummock, Billy," ordered Cricket. "Your hair is just fine for counting," she went on, taking off Billy's shining beaver.
Billy looked much flattered. He certainly did have a good crop for the purpose. His hair was rather coarse, very wiry and bristling, about two inches long, and as clean as a daily scrubbing in soap and water could make it.