A WINK AND A NOD
At breakfast the next morning Mrs. Johnson informed Barry that
Congressman Carlton had sent a message to the house requesting that he
call at his office as early as possible that day. The boy hurried
through his meal and in a few minutes was swinging down Pennsylvania
Avenue on his way to the Capitol. Despite his hurry, his eye lingered on
the various edifices which were springing up on either side indicating
the beautiful city in store for future generations. Indeed, the charm of
Washington always remained fresh in Barry's mind.
He learned that Mr. Carlton had his headquarters in the new office
building of the House of Representatives, which was but a stone's throw
from the Capitol. In a few minutes the boy was tapping timidly at the
door opening from one of the marble corridors of the substantial
building. There was no response and he turned the knob and walked in. He
found that he was in a suite of rooms, and through the door he could see
the Congressman seated at his desk in another room.
He paused a moment before announcing himself. John Carlton, absorbed in
the work before him, presented an interesting study. His smooth-shaven
face was most attractive, and even in the privacy of his room he did not
lose that appearance of authority which is carried so well by men who
mix in the practical affairs of life. A half smile hovered about his
lips, but at that very moment a kind of sadness showed itself in his
eyes. He was a combination of the man of imagination and the man of the
practical world. As he laid down the letter which he had been reading,
he raised his eyes and saw the boy standing in the doorway.
"Come in, Barry," he exclaimed. "Come in and let me get a good look at
you."
The new page walked in and stood before the desk very modestly.
"I suppose," said the Congressman, "that you are feeling very big this
morning?"
Barry looked at him in surprise.
"Why, no," he said, "I don't quite understand you, Mr. Carlton."
The legislator lay back in his chair and laughed with undisguised
enjoyment.
"I am glad of it. I am heartily glad of it," he said. "It proves that
there is one person in Washington who is not likely to be afflicted with
the awful disease which goes down here under the name of 'swelled
head.'"
The boy's eyes were globular with wonder.
"I don't suppose you know what I am talking about, Barry, do you?"
"No," was the simple response, "I do not."
"Well, I'll tell you," said the Congressman, speaking very slowly. "You
came mighty near making yourself famous in the House yesterday. Your
alacrity in bringing Warrington to us was the means of saving a very
important bill. If he had not come at the time he did, the measure would
have been delayed and probably beaten. As it was, you helped us to win
the day. The measure, that is now sure of success, gives the President
of the United States the right to withdraw certain public lands for the
benefit of future generations. It is a part of what is popularly known
as the Conservation Movement."
"I am glad that I was useful," said Barry.
"You are not half so glad as I am," said the Congressman, "and I am
delighted to know that you take it so sensibly. You simply did your
duty, and if you continue to do your duty in this modest sort of way I
know that you will be a success."
The telephone bell rang and Mr. Carlton answered it. As he hung up the
receiver the boy said:
"I was told that you wanted to see me this morning."
"Yes," said Mr. Carlton, drumming on his desk with his finger tips.
"Barry, can you work the typewriter?"
"Yes, sir; and I have a good knowledge of stenography, too."
"Well," was the response, "I suppose it may sound a little sentimental,
but I have written the bill to make an appropriation for the new Naval
Repair Station at Cleverly, and I want you to run it off on the
typewriter. You know very well the feeling I had towards your father,
and I would like to be able to say that you wrote the bill for this big
improvement in your native town. It's not much, I know, but I thought
you might like it."
Barry's eyes were glistening. He spoke eagerly:
"I think it's just fine, Mr. Carlton, and I want to assure you that I
appreciate it very much indeed."
Without further ado, Mr. Carlton gave him the manuscript copy of the
bill, and Barry, going to a typewriter in a corner of the room, began to
transcribe the document. While Barry was at work on the machine Mr.
Carlton began the task of going through his mail. It was no easy job,
for there were probably a hundred letters on his desk and that merely
represented one day's crop. He ran an opener through one envelope after
another and remarked casually as he did so:
"I am waiting for my secretary, Barry. I don't know what keeps him so
late."
At that moment the door opened and the tall, spare form of Felix Conway,
the journalist, entered the room. Mr. Carlton pretended to frown:
"You're late, sir."
"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.
"Here's a communication from a constituent in the country. He applies
for seed. Send it to the Agricultural Department with my endorsement."
Mr. Conway noted the instructions on a corner of the envelope, using a
sort of shorthand that was all his own.
After this came a letter from an inventive genius, who had a flying
machine which he wished to have adopted by the United States Army. It
was referred to the Secretary of War. There were twenty or thirty
letters asking for information of bills that were pending. They were
laid aside to be answered in their turn. Finally they reached a
communication from a poor widow who was applying for a pension. Mr.
Carlton carefully deciphered the uncertain handwriting and then said to
his assistant:
"Felix, I wish you would take this up in person with the head of the
Pension Bureau. I think the woman deserves consideration. Her husband
served his country in its hour of need, and this nation is too great to
neglect those who have risked their lives in its service."
"Have you anything else?" asked the young man.
"Yes," was the reply, "here is a five-page letter."
"What is it?"
"It is from a man who wants me to get the Army to purchase a new kind of
saddle that he has constructed."
"What shall I say to him?"
"Tell him that I'm not a salesman."
Felix Conway gathered up the pile of letters and went into an ante-room
for the purpose of dictating suitable replies to a waiting stenographer.
The Congressman, in the meantime, looked at Barry with a benevolent
smile, and said:
"Barry, you have just had a glimpse of a part of the work that falls to
the lot of an active member of Congress. You will see from this that the
job of being a statesman is not a sinecure. In fact, it is very hard
work, and I am sorry to say that some of the voters look upon the
members of Congress as errand boys, whose sole time should be devoted to
carrying messages to the various heads of Departments."
"That is not all the work, either?" asked Barry.
"Not by any means; the most exacting work that falls to the lot of a
member is that of discussing and digesting proposed legislation when it
comes before the various Committees of the House."
By this time Barry had finished making his copy of the bill providing
for the new Federal building in Cleverly. He handed it to Mr. Carlton,
who read it over very carefully. He made one or two minor corrections,
and then said he was very much pleased with the work.
The Congressman laid the bill down on the desk, and was about to turn to
some other work when there was a tap on the door and two gentlemen
entered the room. One of them was a little man, dressed in black, and
wearing a white linen bow tie. He wore side whiskers and had a peculiar
expression. Barry looked at him the second time, and then discovered
that his face was really conventional, and that its unusual expression
was caused by the queer drooping of the eyelid of the left eye. The man
who accompanied him was a tall, sallow-faced, loose-jointed person, who
gazed steadfastly at the floor. Mr. Carlton arose at once and greeted
both men heartily. The little man gave him a quick grasp of the hand in
reply, while the sallow-faced person said "Good morning" without
looking at his host. They talked in whispers for a few minutes and then
Mr. Carlton called Barry over to him.
"Barry," he said, indicating the little man in black, "I want you to
meet the Hon. Jesse Hudson. Mr. Hudson is one of my colleagues, a member
of the House of Representatives."
Then, turning to Hudson, he said:
"This boy comes from my native town. He is the son of one of my oldest
friends. I have made him a page in the House, and if you ever get an
opportunity to help him, I wish you would do so."
Congressman Hudson took Barry's hand with that quick, convulsive
movement which seemed to be one of his characteristics, and said:
"Glad to meet you. If you ever need anything call on me."
After this Barry was presented to the sallow-faced man, who proved to be
Mr. Joel Phipps, who was the clerk to the Committee on Naval Affairs.
As the general conversation was resumed, Barry withdrew and took his
seat in the corner of the room. Just as they were about to leave,
Congressman Carlton said suddenly:
"By the way, Hudson, I am going to introduce a bill in the House in a
few days to appropriate a million dollars for a Naval Repair Station at
Cleverly. I know that you are a member of the Committee on Naval
Affairs, and I wish you would help me to put this measure through. We
need it and it's a just and proper appropriation."
Mr. Carlton stooped down to pick up a paper, when Congressman Hudson,
turning to the clerk, said:
"Oh, we will help you with it, won't we, Joel?"
As he said this he deliberately winked at the sallow-faced man, and in
return he nodded and replied:
"Yes, certainly we will help Mr. Carlton."
And after that they both withdrew. As the door closed Mr. Carlton
turned to the boy and said:
"Those are good people to know, Barry. Both the Congressman and the
clerk have considerable influence in legislation and they have the power
to either help or hurt you."
"I suppose they have," responded Barry.
He longed to tell his friend of the sign that had passed between the two
men, but he was afraid that if he mentioned it, Mr. Carlton might think
that he was very presumptuous. Besides that, he thought that possibly he
might have been mistaken. However, he said finally, with a great deal of
diffidence:
"I can't say, Mr. Carlton, that I am very much attracted by either of
those men."
"Well, Barry," said the Congressman, a little coldly, "you must take
people as you find them in this world, and not as you think they should
be."
All the same, Barry did not relish the recollections of the wink that
had passed between the two men.