As soon as breakfast was finished, Leopold was ready. His passengers were to be Rosabel, Isabel, and Charley Redmond, a young man of seventeen, and the son of one of the New Yorkers in the party. The sloop was all ready when they reached the river. Stumpy had hoisted the mainsail, and hauled her up where the passengers could embark without difficulty.
"Why, she is a real nice boat!" exclaimed Isabel, as she seated herself in the standing-room.
"I told you she was," replied Rosabel.
"Quite nobby," added Charley Redmond, with a patronizing tone, as he adjusted his eye-glasses, for he was either 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."