"Yes, sir," was the reply, with mock humility. "I'm sorry to say, sir, that I overslept myself, sir."
At this both men burst into laughter. Barry was so interested and so surprised that he forgot to run his typewriter. Mr. Carlton turned and noticed the look of amazement on the boy's face.
"It's all right, Barry," he exclaimed. "Mr. Conway is not actually my secretary, but he has consented to act the part for the next few weeks. My real secretary is ill, and I was in dire need of someone who understood legislative and departmental matters when Mr. Conway was good enough to step in and help me out in the emergency."
"Yes," laughed the journalist, "and in helping you out, I will only be repaying, in a small measure, the many kindnesses you have shown me since I came to Washington."
Barry worked slowly on the typewriter, because he was anxious to have his first piece of work as accurate as possible, and besides the fact that the Congressman and Mr. Conway were engaged in conversation distracted him more or less from the task in hand. He could not help but overhear the talk that passed between the two men.
For instance, Mr. Carlton pulled a letter from an envelope and after reading it, passed it over to the volunteer secretary.
"Here's a man who wants a pass from Boston to Cleverly," he said. "Tell him the new Interstate Commerce law forbids the issuance of passes, and that if the railroad granted his request, the officers of the corporation would be liable to a fine and imprisonment."
The journalist laughed at the sarcasm of the statesman.
"I guess the constituent who wrote that letter must have been asleep for the last two years," he commented. "He don't seem to have kept up with the procession."
Mr. Carlton nodded in assent and handed another letter to the newspaper man.