Finally the last stray merry-maker ran into the house whooping to his companions.

The fire faded, and the slow, strong stars came out.

And the seven strange men were left alone, like seven stone statues on their chairs of stone.

Not one of them had spoken a word.
They seemed in no haste to do so, but heard in silence the hum of insects and the distant song of one bird.

Then Sunday spoke, but so dreamily that he might have been continuing a conversation rather than beginning one.
"We will eat and drink later," he said.