Part 11 (1/2)
”Are you going out, Paul?” asked Mrs. Hoffman, noticing that he took his hat.
”Yes, I must go and see George Barry, and carry the money I have received for sales.”
”Where does he live?”
”In Bleecker street. I shan't be gone long.”
Paul reached the number which had been given him. It was a large, four-story house, with the appearance of a barracks.
”Mr. Barry,” said the servant, in answer to his question--”he lives upstairs on the fourth floor. Room on the right.”
Paul plodded his way upstairs, and found the room without difficulty.
On knocking, the door was opened by Mrs. Barry, who looked at him inquiringly.
”Does George Barry live here?” asked Paul.
”Yes. Are you the one he left in charge of his business?”
Paul answered in the affirmative, adding, ”How is he?”
”He seems quite feverish. I am afraid he is going to have a fever. It's fortunate he came home. He was not able to attend to his business.”
”Can I see him?”
”Come in,” said Mrs. Barry.
The room was covered with a worn carpet, but looked neat and comfortable. There was a cheap sewing-machine in one corner, and some plain furniture. There was a bedroom opening out of this room, and here it was that George Barry lay upon the bed.
”Is that Paul Hoffman, mother?” was heard from the bedroom.
”Yes,” said Paul, answering for himself.
”Go in, if you like,” said Mrs. Barry. ”My son wishes to see you.
”How do you feel now, George?” asked Paul.
”Not very well, Paul. I didn't give up a minute too soon. I think I am going to have a fever.”
”That is not comfortable,” said Paul. ”Still, you have your mother to take care of you.”
”I don't know how I should get along without her. Can you look after my business as long as I am sick?”
”Yes; I have nothing else to do.”
”Then that is off my mind. By the way, how many ties did you sell this afternoon?”
”Fifteen.”
”What!” demanded Barry, in surprise. ”You sold fifteen?”
”Yes.”