The Open Window
“My aunt will be down soon,/Mr. Nuttel,”/said the confident young woman. “I’ll take care of you/while you wait.” She looked about fifteen years old.
Framton Nuttel didn’t know the young woman,/her aunt or any of the people/he was visiting. This country vacation was/to calm his nerves.
“I know how it will be,”/his sister had said/when he was getting ready. “You’ll hide and not talk with anyone. Your nerves will probably get worse.” She gave him introduction letters to people,/saying,/“As far as I remember,/they were nice.”
Framton wondered/if Mrs. Sappleton,/the lady he was about to meet,/was “nice.”
“Do you know many people around here?”/asked the niece/after a long moment of silence.
“Hardly anyone,”/said Framton. “My sister stayed at the rectory here/over four years ago. She gave me letters of introduction/to some people.”
He spoke in a regretful voice.
“Then you know nothing about my aunt?”/continued the young lady.
“Only her name and address,”/admitted Framton. He wondered/whether Mrs. Sappleton was married or a widow. The room felt as if a man lived here.
“Her great tragedy happened/just three years ago,”/said the girl. “That would be after your sister left.”
“Her tragedy?”/asked Framton. He couldn’t imagine a tragedy/in this peaceful place.
“You may wonder/why we keep that window wide open/in October,”/said the niece. She pointed at a large French window/that opened on to a lawn.
“It’s quite warm/for this time of year,”/said Framton. “What does that window have to do/with the tragedy?”
“My aunt will be down soon,/Mr. Nuttel,”/said the confident young woman. “I’ll take care of you/while you wait.” She looked about fifteen years old.
Framton Nuttel didn’t know the young woman,/her aunt or any of the people/he was visiting. This country vacation was/to calm his nerves.
“I know how it will be,”/his sister had said/when he was getting ready. “You’ll hide and not talk with anyone. Your nerves will probably get worse.” She gave him introduction letters to people,/saying,/“As far as I remember,/they were nice.”
Framton wondered/if Mrs. Sappleton,/the lady he was about to meet,/was “nice.”
“Do you know many people around here?”/asked the niece/after a long moment of silence.
“Hardly anyone,”/said Framton. “My sister stayed at the rectory here/over four years ago. She gave me letters of introduction/to some people.”
He spoke in a regretful voice.
“Then you know nothing about my aunt?”/continued the young lady.
“Only her name and address,”/admitted Framton. He wondered/whether Mrs. Sappleton was married or a widow. The room felt as if a man lived here.
“Her great tragedy happened/just three years ago,”/said the girl. “That would be after your sister left.”
“Her tragedy?”/asked Framton. He couldn’t imagine a tragedy/in this peaceful place.
“You may wonder/why we keep that window wide open/in October,”/said the niece. She pointed at a large French window/that opened on to a lawn.
“It’s quite warm/for this time of year,”/said Framton. “What does that window have to do/with the tragedy?”