Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed. [Illustration: SHE STOOD GAZING THROUGH THE SMALL WINDOW.] AUDREY OR Children of Light By MRS. O. F. WALTON AUTHOR OF "CHRISTIE'S OLD ORGAN," "LITTLE DOT," "OLIVE'S STORY," "SAVED AT SEA," "A PEEP BEHIND THE SCENES," ETC. LONDON THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY 4 Bouverie Street and 65 St. Paul's Churchyard, E.C. STORIES BY MRS. O. F. WALTON. Christie's Old Organ. A Peep Behind the Scenes. Winter's Folly. Olive's Story. The Wonderful Door; or, Nemo. My Little Corner. My Mates and I. Audrey; or, Children of Light. Christie, the King's Servant. Little Faith. Nobody Loves Me. Poppy's Presents. Saved at Sea. Taken or Left. The Mysterious House. Angel's Christmas. Little Dot. Doctor Forester. The Lost Clue. Scenes in the Life of an Old Arm-Chair. Was I Right. The Religious Tract Society 4, Bouverie Street, & 65, St. Paul's Churchyard CONTENTS CHAPTER I. THE OLD HOUSE CHAPTER II. A CURIOUS PLAYGROUND CHAPTER III. A PAIR OF ROBINS CHAPTER IV. FORGOTTEN GRAVES CHAPTER V. THE COLLECTION CHAPTER VI. ANGELS' VISITS CHAPTER VII. THE MYSTERIOUS LIGHT CHAPTER VIII. CHILDREN OF LIGHT CHAPTER IX. UNDER THE YEW TREE CHAPTER X. OLD JOE CHAPTER XI. THE HOT SUMMER CHAPTER XII. WHITE ROBES Audrey OR CHILDREN OF LIGHT CHAPTER I The Old House "NOW, Audrey!" "Yes, Aunt Cordelia?" "That's the third clean pinafore that you've had this week," said Aunt Cordelia severely, "and it's only Thursday. Now, Audrey!" And when Aunt Cordelia said, "Now, Audrey!" The little girl who was addressed knew that something was seriously amiss. She was a pretty little girl, with fair hair and brown eyes, and the warm summer sun had tanned her as brown as the nuts in the window of Aunt Cordelia's shop. She stood in the corner of the little back parlour looking ruefully at her pinafore, which was almost as black as if she had sent it up the chimney for five minutes' change of air. "Now, Audrey!" repeated Aunt Cordelia more solemnly than before. The poor child could not bear up against this last terrible appeal, and bursting into tears, she sobbed— "I wish there weren't such things as pinafores; I do wish there weren't!" "No such things as pinafores?" said Aunt Cordelia. "Why, what would become of careless little girls' frocks, if there were no nice pinafores to cover them, I should like to know?" "I hate pinafores," sobbed the child, taking no notice of her aunt's words; "I wish the Queen would say nobody was ever to wear them again!"