“Yes, she has a spine disease, just like some of those persons Dr. Carrolton has cured.” “Perhaps he will cure her,” said Mr. Emberg. “Only if he does it will be worth several thousand dollars, for he charges big fees.” “If I had the money no fee would be too big if my sister could be cured,” said Larry, blinking to keep back the tears. “If you get a chance, speak to him about it,” said Mr. Emberg. “Great men are apt to overlook little things like a fee.” “Shall I go to the police station now?” asked Larry, as he remembered that the physician had told him to be present. “Perhaps you had better,” said the city editor. “Don’t be afraid to speak up, and tell what you know about the case.” But there was no need of Larry’s testimony. The police magistrate, after hearing the story of the officer and the physician, decided to hold the prisoner for the grand jury. Larry, who was on hand, was told to be at the courthouse when he was sent for. So he did not have to give any testimony. As he was passing out of the courtroom with a number of other persons, Larry was spied by Dr. Carrolton. “Hi, boy!” the physician exclaimed. “Don’t forget to come and see me. That was a valuable watch you saved for me!” “I’ll come,” promised Larry, anxious to escape from the gathering crowd. Larry watched the famous physician enter a big automobile and dart up the street in the care of several friends who had come to court, as soon as they heard the news of his plight. Then the boy left the police station and made his way home, as there was no further need of his services at the newspaper office that afternoon. “I wonder if I could get him to doctor Lucy,” thought Larry. “If I could, and she should be cured, I’d be the happiest boy in New York. If I get a chance I’ll surely speak to Dr. Carrolton about it.” When Larry got home that evening he found his mother in much distress. She had just been out to the store to make a few purchases, and, returning, still had her hat on. “What’s the matter?” asked Larry, as he saw by his mother’s face that something was wrong. “The groceryman said I had tried to pass bad money on him!” exclaimed Mrs. Dexter. “What kind?” asked Larry. “A half-dollar.” “Tell me about it, mother.” “I had considerable change in my pocketbook,” went on Mrs. Dexter. “I went out to get a small steak for supper and, when I came to pay the man where we deal, who sells meat as well as groceries, I thought I had a bill to give him. Instead the largest piece of money I could find was a half-dollar. “I gave it to the clerk and he took it to the desk. In a little while he came back and said the money was not good. I insisted that it was, but he said he would call in a policeman to prove it. Then, rather than have a scene, I said I would pay some other money, and I did so.” “Where is the money he said was bad?” asked Larry.