“Who is that man?” she asked Jo.
“Him? That’s Warren Bain.” Jo’s voice sounded contemptuous.
“He doesn’t seem like the other fishermen.” Ann did not wish to show her interest, especially as Jo did not seem eager to talk about the stranger. But she was feeling inquisitive about him and she had already learned that Jo talked more freely if he were not being questioned.
“He’s a queer fellow,” Jo continued after a moment, as though it had taken him a while to decide whether or not to gossip. “He don’t belong to these parts. Came from Down East this spring and set out lobstering from the cove here. We don’t quite take to his coming, because there are more lobsters down his way than there are here and we feel that it would be fairer for him to keep to his home grounds. Besides, he ain’t been none too friendly with the men since he came, and he pries into other folks’ private affairs a good deal. I haven’t got anything against him, but I just don’t like his way.”
As they passed the open door of the shed Warren Bain lifted his head from his work and saw them. Then he moved slowly and lazily to the doorway and watched them. He said nothing, although he looked Ann and Ben over from head to foot. Ann was annoyed by his intense stare and she resented the fact that he did not reply immediately to Jo’s curt greeting.
“Fine morning,” Jo had said when the man first noticed them.
Finally Bain shifted his eyes a little from Ann and Ben and relaxed against the side post of his shack, lounging comfortably. “Good enough,” he said, and nodded his head to Jo.
“You kids stayin’ up at the Baileys’?” he asked with a slow drawl.
Trying not to be angry, Ann answered, “Yes. We are spending the summer with Jo.”
“Hum,” and Bain brought his piercing eyes back to Ann’s face. “Where do you spend all o’ your spare time?”