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. "It all comes of wandering about amongst those graves," said Aunt Cordelia. "It isn't good for children. But what can we do with them? We can't turn them out into the streets to play." CHAPTER IX Under the Yew Tree IT was wonderful what a difference that talk with Granny Robin had made in Audrey's and Stephen's lives. They never forgot what she had said to them, or that they were the Children of Light. And when Audrey's birthday came, Granny Robin gave her a beautiful text to hang up in her bedroom; and the words of the text were these— "WALK AS CHILDREN OF LIGHT." "How ought Children of Light to walk, Granny Robin?" asked Audrey. "What does it mean?" "It means, behave as Children of Light," said the old woman; "do nothing and say nothing which the Children of Light ought not to do or say." "I will try, Granny Robin," said Audrey. And she did try, from that day forward. When Aunt Cordelia was in one of her difficult, fault-finding moods, Audrey would say to herself: "I am a Child of Light," and would keep back the angry, fretful answer. When she was tempted to be idle at school, or to join in the disturbance which most of the children were making, she would say again: "I am a Child of Light," and the thought would make her work with all her might. When she lay awake at night, and felt lonely in the little top room where she slept, she would creep out of bed and look into the churchyard, and above the old tower to the stars shining overhead, and would say to herself: "I am a Child of Light." And then she never felt afraid; for were not the angels watching over all the Children of Light, their little brothers and sisters in the Kingdom? As for Stephen, he was happier than he had ever been before; it was his one thought night and day.