s father and
Stumpy, that neither of them had questioned him very closely in regard
to his business on the beach in the storm and the darkness. As he had
thus far escaped without telling any direct lies, he decided to keep his
own secret for the present; but he intended, the very next time he went
to Rockland, to visit the owners of the Waldo, and inquire about the
passenger who had perished in the wreck of the brig. Very likely this
man had a wife and children, a father, or brothers and sisters, who
needed this money. His wife and little children might at that moment be
suffering for the want of it. It belonged to them, and they ought to
have it. Even if his father failed, and lost all he had, Leopold felt
that it would be better for him to do his whole duty. The secret was
with himself alone, and there was no one to applaud his noble decision;
nay, if he had told his friends and neighbors, and perhaps even his
father, they would probably have laughed at him, called him a fool,
declared that he was more nice than wise, and insisted that it was his
duty to save the Sea Cliff House from the avaricious grasp of Squire
Moses Wormbury.

In spite of his noble conclusion, he was still terribly worried about
the financial troubles of his father. The Rosabel was well worth two
hundred dollars, and she was almost the only piece of property in the
family which was not covered by a mortgage. It was early in the season,
when a boat is more salable than later in the year; and before he went
to sleep, Leopold had decided to run over to Rockland the next day, if
possible, and endeavor to find a purchaser for her, even at three
fourths of her value. It would be a happy moment for him if he could put
one hundred and fifty dollars into his father's hands, and thus enable
him to make up his interest money. There must be some one in Rockland
who wanted a boat, and who would be willing to pay him this price for
so fast and stiff a craft as the Rosabel. With this pleasant
anticipation in his mind, Leopold went to sleep.

He usually got up between four and five o'clock in the morning; but he
did not wake till he heard his father's voice in his chamber. He had
been so tired after the hard work he had done on the beach, and lying
awake till after midnight, he had overslept himself.

"Come, Leopold; it is after seven o'clock," said Mr. Bennington, in the
rather sad and gloomy tones which the misery of his financial trials had
imposed upon him