"For God's sake take a pull, Ern!" he said, most seriously. Ernie looked up surprised, read the distress in the other's bearded face, and burned one of those sudden white flares of his. "I see!" he said. "Alf's been at it again!" and he broke away. Swiftly he went home, passed the study door, and entered the kitchen. His mother was out. Alf, his elbows on the table, and his chin on his hands, was studying a model-engine under the gas-light. He looked up surlily as Ern entered. "Keep out of it!" he ordered. "You've heard what mother says. The kitchen's mine at this time. I don't want you." "But I want you, my lad," answered Ernie, brutal in his bitterness. He locked the door, and took off his coat. "Been tellin the tale again!" he trembled, as he rolled up his sleeves. "I've had more'n enough of it. Put em up! You're for it this journey!" Alf had risen. He knew that look upon his brother's face, and was afraid. "You mustn't touch me!" he screamed, shaking a crooked finger at the other. "I'm delicit, I am." It was the ancient ruse which had stood him in good stead many a time at home and in the playground. "Else you'll tell mother!" sneered Ern. "Very well. Have it your own way!" He seized the model engine on the table, and smashed it down on to the floor. It lay at his feet, a broken mass, with spinning wheels. Then Ern unlocked the door and went out. At supper that evening he was still burning his white flare. Alf saw it and was cowed; Mrs. Caspar saw it too and held her peace. Edward Caspar was, as always, away in the clouds and aware of nothing unusual when he looked in to say good-night. CHAPTER XIV EVIL Alf took no overt steps to avenge himself. Like old Polonius he went round to work, lying in wait for the chance he knew would come. He had not to wait long. On the August Bank Holiday there was a big dance at the Rink in Cornfield Road. Ern attended. He danced well and was sought after as a partner. Alf went too. Ern was surprised to see his brother there, and pleased: for it was not in his nature to bear malice long. "Hullo, Alf!" he chaffed. "Didn't know you was a dancing-man. Let me find you a partner then." Alf shook his head, smiling that shifty smile of his. "I ain't," he said. "I only come to watch." That was true; but the words carried no sinister meaning to Ern's innocent ear. Alf watched. He sat by himself on one of the faded plush-seats that went round the hall. Nobody spoke to him, nobody heeded him. The seats on either side of him were left vacant. Sour, shabby, ill at ease, yet sure of himself, he watched with furtive eyes the flow of boys and girls swirling by him in the dance. One of Ern's friends pointed his brother out to him. "I know," laughed Ern. "Let him alone. He don't want us. He's above larking, Alf is." "Never seen him at a hop before," remarked the friend. "And now he don't look happy."