The cab rolled off. They saw the light diminish under the ash trees. Then the whole party, quietened, went indoors. “They’ll have three good fires burning,” said Tom Brangwen, looking at his watch. “I told Emma to make ’em up at nine, an’ then leave the door on th’ latch. It’s only half-past. They’ll have three fires burning, an’ lamps lighted, an’ Emma will ha’ warmed th’ bed wi’ th’ warmin’ pan. So I s’d think they’ll be all right.” The party was much quieter. They talked of the young couple. “She said she didn’t want a servant in,” said Tom Brangwen. “The house isn’t big enough, she’d always have the creature under her nose. Emma’ll do what is wanted of her, an’ they’ll be to themselves.” “It’s best,” said Lizzie, “you’re more free.” The party talked on slowly. Brangwen looked at his watch. “Let’s go an’ give ’em a carol,” he said. “We s’ll find th’ fiddles at the ‘Cock an’ Robin’.” “Ay, come on,” said Frank. Alfred rose in silence. The brother-in-law and one of Will’s brothers rose also. The five men went out. The night was flashing with stars. Sirius blazed like a signal at the side of the hill, Orion, stately and magnificent, was sloping along. Tom walked with his brother, Alfred. The men’s heels rang on the ground. “It’s a fine night,” said Tom. “Ay,” said Alfred. “Nice to get out.” “Ay.” The brothers walked close together, the bond of blood strong between them. Tom always felt very much the junior to Alfred. “It’s a long while since _you_ left home,” he said. “Ay,” said Alfred. “I thought I was getting a bit oldish—but I’m not. It’s the things you’ve got as gets worn out, it’s not you yourself.” “Why, what’s worn out?” “Most folks as I’ve anything to do with—as has anything to do with me. They all break down. You’ve got to go on by yourself, if it’s only to perdition. There’s nobody going alongside even there.” Tom Brangwen meditated this. “Maybe you was never broken in,” he said. “No, I never was,” said Alfred proudly. And Tom felt his elder brother despised him a little. He winced under it. “Everybody’s got a way of their own,” he said, stubbornly. “It’s only a dog as hasn’t. An’ them as can’t take what they give an’ give what they take, they must go by themselves, or get a dog as’ll follow ’em.” “They can do without the dog,” said his brother. And again Tom Brangwen was humble, thinking his brother was bigger than himself. But if he was, he was. And if it were finer to go alone, it was: he did not want to go for all that. They went over the field, where a thin, keen wind blew round the ball of the hill, in the starlight. They came to the stile, and to the side of Anna’s house. The lights were out, only on the blinds of the rooms downstairs, and of a bedroom upstairs, firelight flickered. “We’d better leave ’em alone,” said Alfred Brangwen. “Nay, nay,” said Tom. “We’ll carol ’em, for th’ last time.”