Two little boys lived at a small farmhouse on the outskirts of a Cotswold village. One evening the grey homestead with its deep stone-slatted roof was all aglow in the sunset, the latticed windows blazing like so many separate suns, while beneath them chrysanthemums—yellow, red, and white—added their brilliance to the picture. Close by an immense elm tree shone in the golden glory of its autumn robe. Beneath it on an old dry wall the two little boys were perched just where some of the stones had been knocked away. One was sitting astride, the other faced the road with his two little brown legs dangling side by side. The boys seemed much the same age, and to the eyes of a lady who was passing by very much alike, but this was no doubt owing to the fact that they were each dressed in a blue blouse and each had a little blue flannel cap on the top of a cluster of fair curls. It was not long before the lady had made friends with the little chaps, and she always kept an eye on the watch for the blue blouses when she was walking in the fields or lanes near the farm. It was soon obvious that one was not only decidedly the elder of the two, but leader, protector, champion, and hero of his little brother. The devotion of the younger child was touching. If he were asked a question he mutely referred it to the other. If he were given anything he never failed to see whether it would be acceptable in the eyes of the superior being whom he worshipped. The two little boys blue were inseparable, and were bound by the best of all ties in which each needs something that the other has to give. [Sidenote: Where is Willie?]