They were just the sort of people who would insist upon hiring a house that was not in the market; its not being in the market would, in their eyes, make it all the more desirable.
Jed had seen them before, knew they were staying at the hotel and that their names were Powless.

He remembered now, with a thrill of alarm, that Mr.Bearse had recently spoken of them as liking Orham very much and considering getting a place of their own.

And of course Captain Sam, hearing this, had told them of the Winslow place, had sent them to him.

"Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" thought Jed, although what he said was: "Good mornin'." He might as well have said nothing.

Mrs.Powless, looming large between the piles of mills and vanes, like a battleship in a narrow channel, was loftily inspecting the stock through her lorgnette.
Her husband, his walking stick under his arm and his hands in his pockets, was not even making the pretense of being interested; he was staring through the seaward window toward the yard and the old house.
"These are really quite extraordinary," the lady announced, after a moment.