When Frank reached home he found a large, overgrown boy, with big red hands, and clothes of rural cut, who apparently did not know what to do with his legs and arms, waiting to see him.
It was his cousin Jonathan.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A COUNTRY COUSIN.
Jonathan was a loose-jointed, heavily built, and awkward boy of seventeen, bearing not the slightest resemblance to his cousin Frank. Still he was a relation, and our hero was glad to see him.
"How are you, Jonathan?" said Frank, cordially. "I wasn't expecting to see you. Are all well at home?"
"They're pooty smart," answered Jonathan. "I thought I'd come down and look round a little."
"I shall be glad to show you round. Where would you like to go?—to Central Park?"
"I don't care much about it," said the country cousin. "It's only a big pasture, dad says. I'd rather go round the streets. Is there any place where I can buy a few doughnuts? I feel kinder empty."