“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.