"That's a good idea," came from Jimmy, who was sitting in a corner of the room. This they did, and Mr. Snowden agreed to have a physician who was a friend of his look at Dick. The superintendent of the lodging-house agreed, in a measure, with Frank that perhaps there might be some injury to Dick's head because of the blow, which, when the resulting depression on the skull was removed, would bring back his memory. A few days later the doctor examined Dick. The boy waited anxiously for the verdict. "I am sorry," said the doctor, "but I can do nothing for you. There is no special injury to the head. The skull was not broken by whatever, or whoever, it was that hit you. You suffered some shock, and that took away your memory. Your mind now is as good as it was before the accident, except that everything in the past is blotted out." "And will I never remember it again?" asked Dick. "I would not say that. The chances are that some day it will all come back to you with a rush. Some forgotten incident will recall it all to you. It may be a slight thing--the hearing of some forgotten name--the seeing of some forgotten face--and then you may remember who you are and where you lived." "Oh, I hope it comes soon," said poor Dick. "I am tired of all this uncertainty." "Never mind," consoled Jimmy. "I'll stick by you to the last." CHAPTER XVII AN OFFER OF A STAND The disappointment following the doctor's verdict was keen for Dick. He had hoped that something might be done to aid him, but he found the only thing he could do was to wait, and this was very tedious. "And maybe it will never happen," he said to Jimmy, that night in their room. "Yes, it will," declared his partner, with more conviction that he felt. "You'll remember who you are some day, I'm certain." "Perhaps--when it's too late." "Well, don't think any more about it," advised Jimmy. "I heard some news to-day I forgot to tell you." "What was it?" "Well, a fellow that has a fine news-stand on Sixth Avenue near the elevated road wants to sell out. He's sick, an' he's got to go out West. I thought maybe you and me could buy him out." "That's so, we might. How much does he want?" "I don't know. Sam Schmidt was telling me about it. I didn't see the man who owns it." "Suppose we go and see him," suggested Dick. It had, for some time, been the ambition of the newsboy partners to own a regular stand, where not only papers but magazines and weeklies could be sold. Jimmy, in his wildest ambition, had sometimes dreamed of such a rise in life, but, until he had met Dick and learned new habits, including the one of saving his money, such a thing had not been possible for him, even to consider. Now he hoped he was in a position to realize his fondest expectation.