When she was tired she said to her son: "Well, are you coming now, or later ?" "Are you goin' a'ready ?" he cried, his face full of reproach.
"Already?
It is past four, I know." "What are you goin' a'ready for ?" he lamented.
"You needn't come if you don't want," she said.
And she went slowly away with her little girl, whilst her son stood watching her, cut to the heart to let her go, and yet unable to leave the wakes.

As she crossed the open ground in front of the Moon and Stars she heard men shouting, and smelled the beer, and hurried a little, thinking her husband was probably in the bar.
At about half-past six her son came home, tired now, rather pale, and somewhat wretched.

He was miserable, though he did not know it, because he had let her go alone.

Since she had gone, he had not enjoyed his wakes.
"Has my dad been ?" he asked.
"No," said the mother.
"He's helping to wait at the Moon and Stars.

I seed him through that black tin stuff wi' holes in, on the window, wi' his sleeves rolled up." "Ha!" exclaimed the mother shortly.