"Yes, ma'am; he's my chum."
"Well," she said, "if you know him you know an angel in disguise. My Danny says that and Danny ought to know."
"Danny?" said Barry, inquiringly.
"Yes," she replied, "my boy, Danny Lewis. He is head of the local messenger boys in the district telegraph office. He was taken sick two weeks ago and the doctor said it was typhoid fever. Someone had to take his place at the office, and when Joe Hart heard of it he volunteered to act as substitute. For more than a week he has been acting as page in the House during the day and chief of the telegraph boys at night. He did it to keep Danny from losing his position. You know these things are mighty uncertain. Now the week for Danny's night shifts is passed and everything is safe, but Joe didn't stop at that. He knew we were poor, and he has been buying food and fruit almost every night."
The strange lump that came into Barry's throat prevented him from making any reply. But his hand was perfectly free, and when he put it into Mrs. Lewis' she found that he had left another five-dollar bill in her palm.
Half an hour later, as he turned into the street where Mrs. Johnson's boarding house was located, he almost collided with Joe Hart, who was coming in another direction. He looked at him very fixedly and said in a stern voice:
"Where have you been?"
"I've been out."
"That don't answer my question," said Barry, severely. "I want to know where you've been spending your nights."