"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.