Then he climbed up into the bleak unsympathetic sky. All around him were benches empty, ugly, comfortless. And looking back, he was aware of Salvation Joe standing with arms folded across his scarlet paunch, eructating on the steps of the Hotel. BOOK VI THE QUEST CHAPTER XLV OLD MUS BOAM Ernie was not adventurous except where his heart was concerned. He had the homing tendency of the affectionate nature. When he left the Hohenzollern Hotel in Sea-gate he made straight as a bird for Old Town. But he did not go to Rectory Walk. He was out of work now, at the slack season of the year, too. He knew very well what his brother Alf's attitude towards him would be, and was by no means certain of his mother's: for she, too, worshipped success and efficiency in all men but the one dependent on her. Therefore he went to an old school-fellow of his, married now, and established in the Moot at the back of the _Star_, and made arrangements to lodge with him. His immediate future was secure, for he still had a pound or two in hand. And long ago he had adopted the outlook on life of the class which had absorbed him--an outlook natural to them, because inevitable, and acquired by him--the outlook that sees To-day but shuts its eyes to save itself from To-morrow. Old Town is small and has long ears. It was soon known that Ernie Caspar was "out," and the cause of his dismissal was discussed by all and hinted at by not a few. Alf, sitting behind his wheel at Mr. Trupp's door, was one of the first to note his brother hanging about the street-corner. He reported the fact to his mother. "He's back on us," he said briefly. "Who is?" "Ernie." He laughed bitterly as he chewed his cigarette. "Lost his job again and turned corner-boy. Takes his stand opposite the _Star_ so everybody may know he's my brother." Mrs. Caspar banged the pans upon the range. "Why's he lost his job?" violently. Alf lifted his hand to his mouth. His mother eyed him, and Alf felt criticism in her stare. "I see Joe Conklin, the head-porter at the Hotel," he said. "They give him one or two chances. But it was all no good. Never is with that sort." Anne Caspar looked at him sharply. "Are you tellin the tale, Alfred?" Her son looked up fiercely. "Why ain't he come home then?--Answer that." "He did come home Saturday same as usual to take dad a walk." "That's his cunning--to bluff you he wasn't out," jeered Alf. "He's lodging in Borough Lane. Has been ten days past. Mrs. Ticehurt told the Reverend Spink. If he done nothing he ain't ashamed of, why not come home?" To do her justice, Anne Caspar was convinced against her will; but subsequent cogitation caused her to accept Alfred's story as true. She felt that Ernie had deceived her. Why had he not told her that he was out when he came as usual on Saturday for his dad? Yet in reality the answer was very simple. It was that Ernie chose to keep his troubles to himself.