e it.

"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.

"That's one hundred. Now, for the next," she said, with much
satisfaction. She counted on, industriously, and soon poor Billy's head
bristled with queer-looking little bunches on one side. She was much too
engrossed to notice the effect at first.

Some time later, grandmamma and Auntie Jean, strolling leisurely through
the orchard, saw ahead of them a funny sight: Billy, sitting meekly on a
hummock, his hands on his black broadcloth knees, while Cricket stood
behind him, bending over his head, all over the top of which bristled
plumy bunches of white hair, which stood up rampantly.

"What in the world is that child doing, making Billy look like a
porcupine?" exclaimed grandma, standing still in amazement, unseen by
the two.

"Playing Horned Lady, I should think. But I dare say she has purpose in
her mind. Listen. Why, mother! she's actually counting Billy's hair!"

At this moment, Cricket, pausing to snap another elastic band around the
last bunch, for the first time noticed the effect of her ha