"And so you see, my frens, God wants you to be good. And my tex' is 'Fight the good fight,' and that's Satan, and I'll say good afternoon to you now, and mind you come next Sunday and I'll preach about the wind and rain trying to drown the boat. Amen."
Chris giggled loudly. Mr. Wargrave shut the door.
"We won't disturb him," he said.
"But he's no business there," Chris said; "Mums would be horrified. Noel thinks he can do anything he likes. He's going to be a clergyman, he says, so he's practising. He oughtn't to play in the church."
"It isn't play," said Mr. Wargrave. "Would you two boys like to come over to the Vicarage with me? My brother Ted would like to see you on a wet afternoon like this."
"I'd love it," said Chris; "but Nurse sent me to fetch Noel in. He's run away."
"I'll step across with you and ask Nurse to spare you for an hour. I live close here, you know."
Then he opened the church door with a little clatter. Noel darted down out of the pulpit. He looked very uncomfortable when he saw his brother's head peeping from behind Mr. Wargrave.
But he adopted a very careless air as he came down the aisle towards them.
"Are you come to have a—a service?" he asked the young vicar.