It sounded like a song, and the words were not like any that he had ever heard since he came to live with Henri and Brossard. He could not forget them, though, for had they not sung themselves through that beautiful dream every time he had it? "Little Boy Blue, oh, where are you? O, where are you-u-u-u?" He only laughed in the dream picture and ran on after the firefly.
It seemed to his tortured mind that there was a fresh parade hourly, and that bugles and bands sounded a taunting note. "Where are you! Where are YOU?!!! Where are you? Where are you-u-u-u " He slammed down the windows, summoned a stenographer, and gave out dictation in a loud, rasping voice. "Yours of the tenth at hand, and contents noted. In reply I wish to say " Boom!
Little Blue Blue, oh, where are you? Oh, where are you-u-u-u?" The gay little voice that had been rising higher and higher, sweet as any bird's, stopped suddenly in mid-air; for, as if in answer to her call, there was a rustling just ahead of her, and a boy who had been lying on his back, looking at the sky, slowly raised himself out of the grass.
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