"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."