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Updated: June 14, 2025
He had come into the parlor on the invitation of Leopold, and had very modestly coiled himself away in the most obscure corner of the room. He was very much interested in the reading of Harvey Barth's diary, and especially in regard to the mysterious passenger. When Leopold read the name of "Joel Wormbury," he could no longer contain himself.
Leopold had all he could do in the boat, and made a small fortune for himself by taking out parties. He raised his price to six dollars a day, so that he could pay Stumpy two dollars a day for his services. The affairs of Mrs. Wormbury were therefore in excellent condition. After the season was finished, a man came over from Rockland and took rooms at the Sea Cliff House.
He threw up his hat to the ceiling, and demonstrated in the most extravagant manner, to the great amusement of Mr. Hamilton and Leopold. Mrs. Wormbury cried with joy, and was not less happy than her son. "Come, Stumpfield, don't go crazy," said she.
In the fall he paid off the mortgage on his furniture, and the note he owed to the widow Wormbury, and still had a large balance in the bank. The Island House had hardly any business, for people preferred to go to the Sea Cliff, even if they had to take rooms outside of the hotel. Ethan did not make any money that season.
"I want to tell you, Susan Wormbury," continued Squire Moses, addressing himself to "Joel's widow," as he and Ethan usually called her, "I want to tell you, Susan Wormbury, that I don't believe this boy has been brought up right. You ought to have brought him up to be honest." "Like his grandfather!" exclaimed Stumpy, sullenly. "Yes, like your grandfather," added the squire, severely.
It was really horrible to see the whole party going to the Sea Cliff. "How do you do, Mr. Hamilton?" said Squire Moses, extending his withered hand to the New York merchant. "Glad to see you come down to the old place once in a while." "Ah, how do you do, Squire Wormbury?" replied Mr. Hamilton, taking the offered hand. "I mean to come down here every year."
"There was a reason for it," replied the landlord, "though as Stumpy says, Joel Wormbury had done nothing wrong. Joel was attacked by a man in liquor, and in self-defence he struck the assailant on the head with a bottle, and supposed that he had killed him. He left Rockhaven in a great hurry, in order to escape the consequences.
If I don't pay my interest on the day it is due, Squire Wormbury will foreclose his mortgage, and take possession of the house," groaned the landlord. "Can't something be done, father?" asked the son. "I don't know what I can do, I have borrowed of everybody who will lend me a dollar. With one good season I could pay off every dollar I owe, except Squire Wormbury's mortgage.
The loss of a man in this way on the Banks was not a very uncommon occurrence. Months and years passed away, but nothing more was heard of Joel Wormbury. His wife and children believed that he was buried in the depths of the sea. Mrs.
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.
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