The Open Window
H.H. Munro (Saki)
Prose Performance
Shae Kwapil
Oral Interpretations 10 a.m.
4/1/13
Stage Setting: A table with two chairs, meaning to resemble a kitchen setting.
(Narrator introduction): The Open Window is a short story about a man named Frampton
Nuttel, a man who had traveled to the countryside in order to cure his nerves. His sister thought that
without him knowing anyone there, he would grow depressed without human interaction, and it would
make his nerve problem worse. She decided to give him letters of introduction about all the people she
knew there from previously visiting. Nuttel did not think much of these visits, but still decided to visit a
lady who he knew nothing about, except her name and address. The lady’s niece, Vera, a girl fifteen
years old, gave him company until her aunt came down. Upon finding out that Nuttel did not know
anything about her aunt except for her name and address, she decided to play a joke on him. Romance
at short notice was her specialty.
Narrator: (Introducing Mr. Nuttel’s sister, stating with a firm voice) Mr. Nuttel’s sister was growing more
nervous than he was, as he was preparing for his countryside departure. “I know how it will be, you will
bury yourself down there and not speak to a living soul; and your nerves will be worse than ever from
moping, I will just give you letters of introduction to all the people I know there. Some of them, as far as
I can remember, are quite nice!”
Narrator: The setting is now in Mrs. Sappleton’s home, Mr. Nuttel speaking with her niece, Vera. Vera
was a very self-possessed young lady.
Vera: (Looking at him confused, trying to figure him out) “My aunt will be down presently, Mr. Nuttel; in
the meantime you must try and put up with me.”
Narrator: (Introducing Framton Nuttel) While Mr. Nuttel tried to think of the correct something that
would flatter Mrs. Sappleton’s niece, he doubted more than ever whether him formally visiting with
these strangers would even help cure his nerves at all. He wondered if Mrs. Sappleton fell into his
sister’s idea of ‘nice’.
Vera: (Trying to make conversation, looking frank) After judging that there had been a sufficient amount
of silence in the room, Vera asked, “Do you know many of the people around here?”
Framton: (Responding scarcely) “Hardly a soul, my sister was staying here, at the rectory you know,
some four odd years ago, and she gave me letters of introduction to some of the people she
remembered from here. That is how I came across you folks.”
Vera: (Looking astonished, leaning forward) “Then you know nothing about my aunt?”
Nuttel: “Only her name and address.” Nuttel was wondering if Mrs. Sappleton was in the married or
widowed state at this point.
Vera: “My aunt’s tragedy happened just three years ago, you know. It would have been around the time
your sister was visiting here.” (Waiting to see Framton’s reaction)
Framton: “Her tragedy?” (Asking, concerned, trying to remember if his sister had mentioned anything
like this)
Vera: (Sits down in a chair) “Well you must be wondering why we keep that window wide open in the
middle of October.” (Nodding, as if towards a window that looks over a lawn)
Framton: “It is quite warm for this time of the year, but I’m not sure what a window has to do with this
tragedy?”
Vera: (In a faltering, story-telling tone) “Out through that window, exactly three years ago today, Mrs.
Sappleton’s husband and her two young brothers went off for their day’s shooting. They never came
back. In crossing the hill to their favorite snipe-shooting ground they were all three engulfed in a
treacherous swampland. It had been a dreadfully wet summer, you know, and places that were perfectly
safe in some areas, gave way in others without warning. Their bodies were never recovered; that was
the dreadful part of it.” (Moment of silence) “Poor aunt always thinks that they will come back someday,
they and the little brown spaniel that went along with them, too. She thinks they’ll just walk in that
window as they used to. (Leaning forward) That’s why the window is kept open every evening ‘til it is
quite dusk out there.”
(Vera continuing the story, telling it in a reminiscing tone) “She has often told me how they went out;
her husband was wearing a white waterproof coat, swung over his arm. Ronnie, he was her youngest
brother, would be singing (teasing voice) ‘Bertie, why do you bound?’ He always did that to torment her,
because it got on her nerves, she said. Sometimes on quiet evenings like this, I almost get a creepy
intuitive feeling that they will all walk in through that window…” (Shrugging her shoulders)
Narrator: Mrs. Sappleton now joins them in the kitchen: (Stand up, now Mrs. Sappleton is introduced) “I
hope Vera has been amusing you?” (Looking with questioning eyes at Vera)
Framton: (looking relieved that Mrs. Sappleton has finally arrived) “Oh, yes, she has been very amusing!”
Mrs. Sappleton: (Nods) “Good! I hope the window being open doesn’t bother you, my husband and
brothers will be home directly after shooting, and they come in through that window,” (Said briskly,
cheerfully) “They’ve been out for snipe in the marshes today, so I’m sure they’ll make a fine mess all
over my poor carpets! So like you men folk, isn’t it?”
Narrator: Mrs. Sappleton rattled on cheerfully about the shooting, the scarcity of the birds, and the
prospects of duck in the winter. To Framton it was all purely horrible. He made a desperate, but only
successful effort, to turn the focus of discussion to a less horrific topic. He was aware that his hostess
was only giving a fragment of her attention to him, because her eyes kept straying past him towards the
open window, and to the lawn beyond. Little did he know that he had paid a visit on such a tragic
anniversary.
Narrator: Framton thought Mrs. Sappleton was mentally ill and felt uncomfortable talking about her
husband and brothers, because it is assumed that they are deceased; so he changed the topic to his
illness.
Framton: (Bluntly) “The doctors agree in ordering me complete rest, no mental excitement, and
especially no physical exercise. In the matter of diet, though, they are not so much in agreement.”
Mrs. Sappleton: (Said briskly, impatiently) “No?” (Suddenly brightening into alert attention) “Here they
are at last! Just in time for tea, and don’t they look as if they are muddy up to their eyes!”
Narrator: Framton shivered slightly and looked at the niece searching for answers. He swung around in
his seat and looked out the window. In the deepening darkness, three figures were walking towards the
window, all carrying guns under their arms, with a white coat hung over one of the men’s shoulders. A
tired brown spaniel kept close at their heels. As they approached closer to the house, a young voice was
heard from the dusk, “I said, Bertie, why do you bound?” Framton grabbed his stick and hat and left the
house quickly without an explanation. Since the niece said their bodies were never recovered, he
thought he had seen their ghosts.
Vera: (Said calmly) “I expect he bolted out because he saw the spaniel, he told me he had a horror of
dogs. He was once hunted into a cemetery somewhere on the banks of the Ganges River by a pack of
dogs and was forced to spend the night in a newly dug grave with the dogs snarling and foaming above
him. Enough to make anyone lose their nerve, I’d say”
Narrator: Romance at short notice was her specialty.