"No, I s'pose not," replied Jimmy a little dubiously.
Dick took his partner to a better class of theatrical performance that night, for the lad who had forgotten his identity did not care much for the moving picture shows.
"How do you like this?" he asked Jimmy.
"Well," was the slow answer, "I s'pose it's swell, an' all that, an' I'll get used to it in time, but I like a prize-fight best."
Dick laughed heartily, but he did not tell his partner the cause of his mirth.
During the days that followed the two newsboys did a good business. They sold many papers, and Dick was now on an equal footing with Jimmy, though the latter had had much more experience. There was more talk of taking Frank Merton into partnership with them, but as the latter had built up a good trade for himself in another part of the city, he did not know whether it would be a wise thing or not to make a new venture.
Meanwhile Dick was no nearer a solution of the mystery than enshrouded him. Night after night he would try and try again to remember who he was and where he came from, but without result. The past was like a sealed book to him, and he had absolutely no recollection of who he was or where he had lived.
"Do you know what I would do?" said Frank one night when, in the room of the partners, the three were talking over the strange case.
"Well, what would you do, Frank?" asked Jimmy.
"I'd take Dick to a doctor."