“Thanks for the lift.” He stood looking up at the few lights that gleamed through the fog. “Suppose I’ll have to stay here all night.”
“Suppose so. I’d take you to our cottage, but it’s small. We’re full up. Couldn’t crowd one more in an end. There’s a summer hotel up yonder.”
“Summer hotel. Four dollars up. Society folks.” Don looked down at his sodden garments. “No, thanks. Where do the fisherfolk live? I’m one of them.”
“Why——” The boy appeared surprised. “Captain Field lives just down there beyond the wharf. But you wouldn’t go there?”
“Wouldn’t? Why not?” Something in the other boy’s tone angered Donald.
“You ought to know.” The boy’s tone was sharp. He turned to go.
“But I don’t.”
“Then you’re dumb. That’s all I have to say for you. You’re breaking into the closed season on lobsters. You couldn’t do anything worse.”
“The closed season!” Don’s eyes opened wide. “You’re crazy. There’s no closed season on lobsters, not in the State of Maine.”
“On Monhegan there is, and believe me it’s tight closed. Try it out and see.”