"No, Mrs. Johnson," he replied, lightly.
But down in his heart of hearts there was an unutterable desire to throw himself upon her bosom and tell her his troubles. How he longed at that moment for five minutes with his mother. But it was decreed that he should bear his burden alone.
He went first to John Carlton's hotel, where he was told that the Congressman had gone out an hour before, leaving word that he would not return until late that night. Barry proceeded on his way to the office building of the members of the House of Representatives. He noticed a light in Mr. Carlton's room. He was shaking now with a nervousness that he could not understand. But his purpose to make a clean breast of the mystery was unaltered and unalterable.
He paused for a moment and then knocked on the door. There was no response. The boy, waiting there like a culprit, began to hope that after all his friend might not be in his office. But he screwed up his courage to the sticking point and knocked again. A familiar voice called out:
"Come in."
The page boy opened the door and walked in the room. Mr. Carlton merely raised his eyes and said pleasantly:
"Hello, Barry; how are you?"
The boy was silent. The Congressman was so absorbed in his work that he did not notice the long pause in the conversation. When he looked up the second time he was startled at the sight that met his gaze. Barry's face was the color of chalk. He appeared to have shrivelled so much that his clothes hung from his body.
"Are you ill?" asked the statesman, with real concern in his voice.
"No," said Barry, huskily; "I've found the bill!"