Stacy--Part Eight

Splog # 28

Eight

   Stacy got up from the chair and walked down the three marble steps but then decided against walking right up to the man. She was pretty sure it was a man, but the clothes were quite loose so it might have been a woman. The long, easy strides made her think of a man and pretty soon she saw that her assumption was correct. The man was just about her size and, as he came up to her, he held out his hand to shake hers.

   "I expect you're Stacy, right?"

   His friendly smile relaxed some of her tension and she put her hand out and let him take it in both of his. He looked truly happy to see her, as if he'd been expecting her but wasn't sure if she'd come or not and then was greatly relieved when she actually arrived. Stacy was taken aback slightly by his enthusiastic greeting. He was holding her hand, but not shaking it, and staring at her face as though it had been described to him but he had never actually seen it. His smile was rather infectious though and she was soon smiling back at him. He had very large and sparkling brown eyes and, when she glanced at his hat, she was surprised to see an ornament on it in the shape of a white butterfly. She was staring at this when she realized he had asked her a question and was awaiting an answer.

   She looked back at his face and said, "Pardon me?"

   "I grant you my pardon in all ways, up and down and to both sides, and for all things. Although I'm unaware of why you request it."

   Stacy looked at the man for another moment, then said slowly, "I didn't mean that I asked pardon for any offence. I meant to ask you to repeat what you had said."

   "Ah!" said the man. "You didn't hear what I said. But why not? Was your attention abstracted onto something else?"

   When Stacy paused before replying, the man said, "Could your attention have been diverted to my butterfly?"

   Again before Stacy could reply, the man continued, with a chuckle in his voice, "Have you seen this butterfly before? This extraordinary butterfly? But how would you know? All white butterflies look alike. Don't they? Of course they do. By the way, your name IS Stacy, isn't it?"

   This time he paused long enough for Stacy to reply in the affirmative.

   "Good. My name is Splog. Now, if you don't mind, let me take a good look at you."

   Splog slowly walked around Stacy. He seemed to be studying her as if he were trying to memorize details about her appearance. Or maybe as if she had something hidden about her person that he was trying to find. Stacy took a quick look at herself. Short-sleeved red shirt with buttons. Blue shorts. White stockings and black sneakers. Nothing else really to look at except her personal self. Then she looked at Splog. (What kind of a name was that? It sounded like a nickname or some such. No mother or father would name their child Splog...Would they?) Black hat with wide brim and butterfly pin. Long gray coat over dark shirt and pants. And black boots. He looked sort of like something out of a story - a woodsman, perhaps. Though she wasn't exactly sure what a woodsman was...a man who lives in the woods maybe? Well, that is kind of what he looked like. Slightly like a cowboy but fairly short for one, being the same size as herself. A hermit? He did look like someone who might live alone...in the woods...and eat vegetables...and associate with animals.

   By this time, Splog was standing in front of her again. He opened his mouth to say something, and then he stopped, still with his mouth open. He squinted his eyes a little and wrinkled his forehead. He looked like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

   Then he closed his mouth and nodded his head.

   "I have reason to believe you may be hungry. If I subscribed to that belief, would it have any foundation in reality?"

   Stacy thought about this for a moment and then once again replied with a curt affirmative.

   "Good. I thought that might be the case. Would you care to repair to my domicile and partake of light refreshment?"

   Stacy had to think about this a little longer than she had the previous question. Splog was a stranger and at the age of eleven Stacy was aware that one usually didn't accept offerings from strangers. She took a glance at her surroundings. There was little to see - the steps and chair behind her, the arch curving upwards behind Splog, and not much else as the land seemed to fall away from where she was standing. The sky was white and she couldn't see where the sun was though the day was quite bright. There was only herself, the chair, and Splog standing in front of her, patiently awaiting a reply to his invitation.

   "First, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a good look at you."

   Stacy didn't really need to take a look at Splog because she had done so as he was taking his look at her. But she did want a moment to think a little about what she should do in this strange situation.

   Splog had replied, "By all means." So Stacy took a turn around him and tried to make up her mind. She was alone in a strange place. There was nothing here where she was except a large marble chair so, no matter what, she would have to see where the arch Splog had approached on led to and what was there. Splog wasn't big enough to seem threatening and he projected an air of gentleness and kindness, even through his somewhat abrupt ways of speaking. And he seemed happy and excited to find her where he had, for some reason, expected to find her. And he knew her name.

   "How did you know my name?" she asked suddenly.

   For answer, Splog tapped his hat and for a moment Stacy wondered if he was telling her that he was psychic.