The Storyteller

Like the three children, the aunt is a flat character that represents an entity or attitude outside the story. She is the quintessential “adult” in that she is stern and proper, but she is also unable to effectively control the children under her care. This inability stems largely from her inability to understand the children, despite having once been a child herself.

The aunt also represents proper Edwardian society. She believes in propriety and obedience above all else; for both her and Edwardian England more broadly, these are the greatest virtues and constitute “goodness.” The aunt (and therefore society) is oblivious to the mindless simplicity and the inherent dangers of this attitude. On the train, the aunt briefly assumes the role of the storyteller, for which she adheres to society’s moralistic expectations. Her story is intended merely to instill a sense of moral obligation to goodness and scare the children into unquestioning obedience. This attempt fails, however, and the aunt finds herself with less control over the children than she had to begin with because her story, as well as being boring, is also blatantly insincere. The children can feel its falsity even if the aunt cannot, and when she folds when pressed by the children about whether the girl’s goodness was truly integral to her being saved. Her inability to defend her beliefs reinforces Munro’s assertion that society’s morals, while rigid, are built on flimsy logic.

She and the bachelor are also foils for each other, portraying different attitudes about children, the function of stories, and the virtues of good behavior.

The bachelor, like the other characters in the train car, is given little depth or description. However, the narrative’s point of view allows the reader more access to the bachelor’s thoughts than the other characters, which, in turn, gives him more complexity and personality. He is a stranger to the rest of the people in the train car and has little patience for the boisterous children or their aunt’s inability to control them.

The aunt concludes that he must be hard and unsympathetic, meaning unsympathetic to her plight as a caretaker. However, despite his annoyance with the children and their antics, he seems to understand and empathize with their feelings better than their aunt does. For example, both he and the children wonder if the people in the aunt’s story would have saved the girl whether she had been good or not. Furthermore, when he takes over the role of storyteller, it becomes clear that he understands what will appeal to the children far better than the aunt.

This makes him the aunt’s competition, foil, and antagonist. He knows that the children will be intrigued by the concept of a girl who is “horribly good,” and he is able to quickly forestall endless questions from Cyril with his improvisation about sheep and clocks. He desires to teach a far different lesson than the aunt, as his story highlights the dangers of unquestioning obedience and hints that awards and incentives are not sufficient reasons for good behavior. By the end of the story, the reader also has a sense of his mischievousness as he thinks, with no small amount of satisfaction, that the children will be harassing the aunt for more improper stories for months to come.