“Three years ago from today,/her husband and two young brothers went hunting.
They left through that window/and never came back.
When they were crossing the moors,/they got stuck in a bog.
It had been a terrible, wet summer.
Safe places were suddenly dangerous.
Their bodies were never found.
That was the worst thing.”
The girl began to shiver.
“Poor aunt always thinks/they’ll come back someday/with our brown spaniel.
It was lost, too.
She thinks/they’ll walk in through that window.
That’s why the window is kept open/every evening until sunset.
Dear aunt often talks about it.
Her husband had his white coat over his arm.
And Ronnie,/her youngest brother,/was singing,/‘Bertie, why do you bound?’
He always sang that to tease her.
You know,/sometimes on quiet evenings like this,/I almost get a strange feeling/that they’ll all walk in through that window....”
Just then the aunt rushed into the room,/apologizing for being late. It was a relief for Framton.
“I hope Vera has been nice to you?”/she said.
“She has been very interesting,”/replied Framton.
“I hope you don’t mind the open window,”/said Mrs. Sappleton happily. “My husband and brothers will be home soon/from hunting. They always come in this way. They’ve been out in the moors today. So,/they’ll get mud on my poor carpets.”
She talked cheerfully about hunting/and how there wouldn’t be many birds this winter. For Framton,/the topic was terrible. He made a desperate effort/to change the conversation to something less upsetting.
But he noticed/that the aunt wasn’t paying attention. She kept looking out the window. It was certainly an unfortunate coincidence/that he had paid a visit/on this sad anniversary.
Nervously,/Framton talked about his mental health. He needed rest/and shouldn’t get excited. And no heavy exercise. He talked and talked.
Mrs. Sappleton was about to yawn/but suddenly sat up.
“Here they are at last!”/she cried. “Just in time for tea. And they’re covered in mud.”
Framton shivered. He looked sympathetically toward the niece. But the girl was staring through the open window/and her eyes were filled with horror. Framton turned/and looked in the same direction.
In the twilight,/three figures were walking across the lawn/toward the window. They all carried guns/and one man had a white coat over his shoulders. A brown spaniel walked close behind. Quietly they neared the house. Then a loud voice began to sing,/“Bertie, why do you bound?”
Just then the aunt rushed into the room,/apologizing for being late. It was a relief for Framton.
“I hope Vera has been nice to you?”/she said.
“She has been very interesting,”/replied Framton.
“I hope you don’t mind the open window,”/said Mrs. Sappleton happily. “My husband and brothers will be home soon/from hunting. They always come in this way. They’ve been out in the moors today. So,/they’ll get mud on my poor carpets.”
She talked cheerfully about hunting/and how there wouldn’t be many birds this winter. For Framton,/the topic was terrible. He made a desperate effort/to change the conversation to something less upsetting.
But he noticed/that the aunt wasn’t paying attention. She kept looking out the window. It was certainly an unfortunate coincidence/that he had paid a visit/on this sad anniversary.
Nervously,/Framton talked about his mental health. He needed rest/and shouldn’t get excited. And no heavy exercise. He talked and talked.
Mrs. Sappleton was about to yawn/but suddenly sat up.
“Here they are at last!”/she cried. “Just in time for tea. And they’re covered in mud.”
Framton shivered. He looked sympathetically toward the niece. But the girl was staring through the open window/and her eyes were filled with horror. Framton turned/and looked in the same direction.
In the twilight,/three figures were walking across the lawn/toward the window. They all carried guns/and one man had a white coat over his shoulders. A brown spaniel walked close behind. Quietly they neared the house. Then a loud voice began to sing,/“Bertie, why do you bound?”