"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.
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