And then he always went to bed very early, often before the children.

There was nothing remaining for him to stay up for, when he had finished tinkering, and had skimmed the headlines of the newspaper.
And the children felt secure when their father was in bed.

They lay and talked softly a while.

Then they started as the lights went suddenly sprawling over the ceiling from the lamps that swung in the hands of the colliers tramping by outside, going to take the nine o'clock shift.

They listened to the voices of the men, imagined them dipping down into the dark valley.