ither near-sighted, or fancied
that the glasses added to his dignity and importance. "I dare say this
rustic is quite a boatman."

"He may be a rustic, but he is not so green as you are, Charley
Redmond," added Isabel, indignantly; but she spoke for her friend rather
than for herself.

The "rustic" did not hear any of these remarks, for after helping the
girls to their seats, he had gone to cast off the cable which Stumpy was
hauling in. But Leopold did not like Charley Redmond, for the young
gentleman was a person of ten times as much importance, in his own
estimation, as his father. He was supercilious, and, unlike the rest of
the party, looked down upon the boatman, and everybody else in the town.

"Of course you couldn't expect much of a fellow down here," added
Charley.

"He knows twice as much as you do," retorted Isabel, as the skipper took
his place at the helm, thus putting an end to the conversation.

"Now shove her off, Stumpy," said Leopold.

"Stumpy!" ejaculated Charley, with a laugh. "That's a romantic name."

"His name is Stumpfield Wormbury," Leopold explained. "He is a
first-rate fellow."

"No doubt of it," sneered the New Yorker, who was not a good specimen of
his _genus_, and could not appreciate such a "good fellow," with his
brown face and coarse clothes.

"He don't like his nickname very well, and when he objected to it, years
ago, the fellows began to call him 'Wormy.' He couldn't stand that, and
is satisfied now to be called 'Stumpy.'"

"Stumpy is better than Wormy," added Charley Redmond.

"Hoist the jib," said Leopold.

The Rosabel went off with a brisk breeze, at a speed which immediately
rekindled the enthusiasm of the girls; and, to prolong the sail, Leopold
stood off into the bay, going around a small rocky island, a mile from
the light-house.

"It's rather rough out here," said Charley Redmond, when the sloop began
to dance and leap on the waves thrown up by the fresh north-west wind.

"It's delightful!" exclaimed Isabel; "isn't it, Rose?"

"I think so, Belle; I enjoy it above all things."

"But the boat is rather small," suggested Charley, as a cloud of spray
dashed over the bow.

"So much the better," added Rosabel.

When the sloop was a mile from the shore, where the water was not
sheltered by the high cliffs, the white caps lighted up the bay, and it
was very lively sailing. The Rosabel, close-hauled, pitched smartly, and
the spray soon drenched Stumpy, who, pres