"Now, where shall I begin? You see you haven't any part, Billy, and there's no place to start from."
"Seem's if my hair wouldn't stay parted," said Billy, meekly, looking troubled by the fact.
"I'll part it right in the middle, and you put your hand up and hold this side down, while I count the other. I'll begin right in front. One—two—three—there, Billy, you moved your hand a little, and some of your hair slipped right up again, and I've lost my place."
"I didn't go to do it," said Billy, pressing his hand down harder on the rebellious hairs. "Is that all right now?"
"Yes, that will do. Now, hold still," and Cricket began again.
"Ninety-nine—one hundred—oh, Billy!" for an inquiring wasp came whizzing near, and Billy ducked suddenly to avoid it. "Now I've lost that, and I've got to begin again. Billy, you haven't any string in your pocket, have you? Then I could tie up your hair in bunches when I get to one hundred, and count the bunches afterward."
But Billy hadn't a string.
"I'll run up to the house and get some," said Cricket, darting away. She was back in a few minutes, with a small pasteboard box in her hand.
"This is better than string," she panted. "I got auntie's little box of rubber bands. Now we can count. Never mind holding your hand up, for I can begin anywhere."
She gathered up a lock of hair, counted to one hundred, and twisted an elastic band around it, close to the roots.