THE RENOWNED DOCTOR
Larry’s mother could scarcely believe the good news that the boy
brought her when he showed the thousand-dollar check. It seemed almost
like a dream to all of them, and several times Larry pinched himself to
see if he would not wake up.
But the check remained firm, and, the next day at the suggestion of Mr.
Newton, the lad deposited it in a savings bank, and received a book
with his name on it, and one thousand dollars on the credit side.
“What are you going to do with it?” his mother asked Larry several
times. “I hope you will not spend it foolishly.”
“Don’t worry,” replied Larry. “I’m not going to spend it right away,
but when I do it will be for something worth while,” and he smiled over
some pleasant thought.
Many persons, on receiving such a large sum, would, if they were as
poor as the Dexters, have at once moved into a better house, bought a
lot of new furniture, and begun to live better. But this did not enter
Larry’s head, though his mother wondered if that was what his plan was.
She would have liked to have moved into a better house, though they
were fairly well off where they were. True, they had not many articles
of luxury, and sometimes their comforts were few. But Larry was now
earning good wages, and, with what Mrs. Dexter got from her sewing,
they had enough to eat, good substantial clothing, and did not need to
worry over the coal supply, even though winter was coming on. But Larry
was not yet ready to disclose his plans.
There was much wonder in the vicinity of the apartment where the
Dexters lived over the fact that with so much money they did not move
to better quarters, and several of their neighbors mentioned this.
“It’s Larry’s money,” said Mrs. Dexter, in answer to these questions.
“He can do what he likes with it, in reason. Of course I would not let
him spend it foolishly, and I know he will not. When he gets ready he
will let me know what he is going to do with it.”
Then Mrs. Dexter would close the conversation, or turn it into some
other channel. But the neighbors did not cease from wondering and
talking.
At the office Larry was the envy of all the other boys, and not a few
of the reporters.
“If I had that money I’d never work again,” said Bud.
“It wouldn’t last long if you began to spend it,” said Larry. “I’ve got
a special use for that thousand dollars.”
That afternoon Mr. Newton had to go out on a story. As he was leaving
the city room Mr. Emberg said:
“While you’re out you might get a picture of Dr. Carrolton. We’ll
run it to-morrow, with the story of that big operation he’s going to
perform.”
“I’m afraid I will not have time to go there,” said Mr. Newton. “It’s
’way uptown. Perhaps one of the boys or Larry could go.”
“I guess Larry can get it all right,” said the city editor. “I didn’t
think of him.”
“Let him come part of the way with me,” suggested Mr. Newton. “I’ll
tell him what to do.”
So Larry was told to get on his hat and coat, give up carrying copy for
the rest of the day, and go after a photograph of the celebrated doctor.
“Is he going to perform one of those operations on lame children?”
asked Larry of Mr. Newton, as they were in the elevated train going
uptown.
“Yes, he’s going to try and cure a bad spinal trouble that a daughter
of Mr. Smyington, the millionaire, is afflicted with,” said the
reporter. “He has been very successful in all the cases he has
undertaken, and he was brought over to this country especially to
operate on this one case.”
“It must cost a lot of money,” said Larry.
“Mr. Smyington is paying ten thousand dollars,” said Mr. Newton.
Larry said nothing, but he sighed in a way that made Mr. Newton wonder
what the boy was worrying about.
“Ten thousand dollars,” said Larry softly to himself. “That’s an awful
lot of money, and I have only one thousand.”
“Here’s where you get off and change cars,” said Mr. Newton, after
about half an hour’s riding. “Just go right in the house where Dr.
Carrolton is staying, and if any one asks you what you want, say you’re
from the _Leader_. The physician is partial to newspaper men and I
guess you’ll have little trouble getting a photograph.”
Larry experienced no difficulty in reaching the rooms of the great
doctor. But there he was met by a secretary, who seemed to be in bad
temper.
“Tell your business by me,” he said to Larry. “The doctor cannot bother
mit every boy what comes along.”
Larry explained his errand.
“Ach! No! No! The doctor will gif out no more photographs,” said the
secretary, who was a German. “He has alretty gif out ten thousand. You
must go away!”
“But I was told to get a picture,” persisted Larry, who knew that it
is part of a reporter’s duty never to give up.
“Go away! Go away!” exclaimed the secretary.
“What’s the trouble?” asked a voice, and, from an inner room came the
great doctor himself. He was smiling kindly, and seemed good-natured.
“It is one pest of a newspaper poy,” explained the secretary. “He must
have a photograph.”
“I want one for the _Leader_,” broke in Larry.
“Ha! Who is this?” exclaimed the physician as he heard the sound of
Larry’s voice. “I seem to have seen you before, my boy.”
“Yes, sir, I guess you did,” replied Larry.
“Ha! I remember now, you are the boy who helped to catch the pickpocket
that stole my watch,” the doctor went on. “I was wondering why you
never came to see me.”
“I have been too busy,” said Larry, which was the truth, though
another reason was that he felt a little bashful about calling on the
celebrated physician.
“Well, my boy, I owe you considerable for what you did. I prize that
watch very highly. What can I do for you?”
“I would like to get your picture for the paper,” spoke Larry. “The
city editor told me to be sure and get it.”
“And you shall have it,” said Dr. Carrolton, in spite of the grumbling
of the secretary. “Here it is, and besides one for the paper I give
you one for yourself,” and the physician took two fine photographs from
the mantle.
“They are the last you have, Herr Doctor,” objected the secretary.
“Never mind, Emile,” was the answer. “We can get more. I would do more
than that for this boy.”
“How--how much do you charge for operations?” blurted out Larry, with
almost a gasp. It was what he had been nerving himself up to ever since
he heard he was to see the doctor.
“Well, it all depends,” replied the physician, thinking it might be
a boy’s curiosity that prompted the question. “I do nothing else but
these operations, and so I have to charge more than other doctors do
for ordinary cases. Mine are very complicated cures and it sometimes
takes a long time to perfect them. So I have to charge high fees. But I
try to make my charges in accordance with what people can pay.”
“Could you do one for a thousand dollars?” asked Larry.
“I suppose so,” said the physician with a smile at Larry’s bluntness.
“Why?”
“Because that’s all I have,” exclaimed the boy. “I got it as a reward
for finding the Reynolds diamonds. My sister has spine disease and
she suffers very much. I would give the thousand dollars if you could
cure her, and then I could owe the rest of the money to you and pay
you when I earned it. Will you? Please, Dr. Carrolton, please cure my
sister!”
“Tell me all about it,” said the physician kindly, taking a chair and
drawing up one for Larry. “Where is your sister?”
Then the boy told him all about Lucy, and how much pain she had,
telling how patient she was. He related the experience with the
diamonds and told about getting the thousand dollars.
“Please come and cure my sister,” he ended up with. “I know I can’t pay
you what it is worth, but I’ll work hard until I can make it up,” and
he paused to regard the doctor anxiously.
“I--er--ahem!” said the physician, who seemed to find it hard to
proceed. “I don’t want your money, my boy,” he said at length.
“Isn’t it enough?” asked Larry in a disappointed tone.
“It is far too much,” replied Dr. Carrolton. “I have wanted to do
something for you ever since you saved my watch for me. I would rather
have lost ten thousand dollars than that watch, which I prize for the
memories it brings. So you can consider me in your debt to a large
amount. As for your sister, I will come and examine her.”
“Thank you,” exclaimed Larry.
“I don’t say I can cure her,” the physician went on, “but I will try,
and, if I can, I will be only too glad to do so in return for what you
have done for me, also because I like you, and I am sure I shall like
your sister, if she is anything like you.”
“She’s a lot better,” said Larry, hardly knowing whether to laugh or
cry.
“All right, I’ll write you a letter soon, and tell you when I can come
and see your sister. Now you had better run along, for the paper might
want the picture,” and, shaking hands with Larry, the great doctor
went back to his room, while the boy, almost in a daze over his good
fortune, started back for the office.