"But they talked it over last night," persisted the boy. "I heard them—while I was at the hotel."
"I don't doubt it," retorted the other, wearily, "and if I stay here talking to you any longer they'll cook my goose sure enough."
"But I have more I must tell you. I'm sure—"
"Not now," interrupted Carlton.
With that he hurried into the room where nearly all of the members of the Committee had assembled. Barry was in despair. He tried to tell his news and failed. In the meantime Joel Phipps, the clerk, was calling the roll to ascertain whether a quorum of the Committee was in attendance. Barry, at his post in the doorway, could see Mr. Carlton flitting about from one member to another.
While he stood there Felix Conway came along and greeted him cordially. The sight of that beaming countenance was to the boy like a grateful rain upon a parched desert. What he had tried to tell the Congressman he could impart to Conway's receptive ears. Felix listened in silence. At the conclusion of the narrative he gave a prolonged whistle.
"Did you tell this to John Carlton?" he demanded.
"I tried to, but I couldn't get him to listen."
"Oh. I suppose he was so busy that he didn't know what you were talking about."
"That's right. I don't think he knew what I meant."