"Because you know, Audrey, I think if we are Children of Light, we must be their little brothers and sisters—don't you think so, too?"
When Sunday evening came, the children were very anxious to watch the old church. They sat for a long time keeping a strict look out on the gate, for they fancied that old Maria must have some special business in the church on Sunday, and that they might see her come in.
But though they watched carefully for more than an hour, no one came to turn the rusty lock; and at last, when darkness came on, the children crept somewhat tremblingly to peep into the church.
Yes—there was the light again, flickering as before in the chancel; and yet they could see no sign of any one in the church.
"Now," said Audrey, "we'll make them believe us. You fetch Mr. Robin, Stephen, and I'll fetch Aunt Cordelia; she hasn't gone to church to-night, and we'll show it to them."
Aunt Cordelia refused to come; she was wearing her Sunday dress, and would spoil it, scrambling on those dirty stones, she said.
But Mr. Robin put on his cap, and came with Stephen as quickly as he could.
"Now you will see, Mr. Robin," Audrey whispered to him, as he climbed on the flat stone and looked in at the window. "What do you think it can be?"
"I can't see anything," said Mr. Robin; "it's all dark inside."
The light had entirely vanished—not the faintest glimmer was to be seen; and poor Audrey and Stephen were as far as ever from convincing those at home that it had ever appeared, except in their imaginations.