As they entered the post-office, Frank stepped up to the
"pigeon-hole," and the postmaster handed him two letters; one was
addressed to his mother, and the other bore his own name, written in a
full, round, school-boy's hand.
"Ben," he exclaimed, as he broke the seal, "I've got a letter from
Archie. I wrote to him a month ago; I should think it was about time
to get an answer."
"See if he says any thing about getting a letter from me," said Ben.
"I haven't heard from him in a long time."
Before proceeding further, it may not be improper to say a word about
Archie Winters. He was, as we have already said, Frank's cousin, and
lived in the city of Portland. He was just Frank's age, and, like him,
was kind and generous; but he was not the boy for books. When in
school, he was an obedient and industrious pupil, and learned very
readily; but, when four o'clock came, he was the first to lay aside
his books. He was very fond of rural sports, and, for a city boy, was
a very expert hunter; he even considered himself able to compete with
Frank.
Pages:
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146