“I’m afraid I don’t understand you,” said Girlie.
“Of course not—nobody ever does,” said the little man; “that’s why I’m called an Enigma. I can say things far more imcomprehensibly misunderstandable than that,” he added.
“Oh, please don’t!” said Girlie. “I can’t follow you as it is.”
“Very well, then,” said the Enigma. “Pray allow me to meditate in silence;” and he folded his arms and sat perfectly still, staring up at Girlie as before.
“Pass his plate,” said the King’s Minstrel, who had been greedily pretending to eat the whole time, and had not spoken a word to any one before. “He won’t want any more.”
Girlie passed the plate, which was perfectly empty. “So it can’t possibly do him any harm,” she thought.
“I wonder what he fancied,” said the King’s Minstrel, looking first into the plate and then turning it over and looking underneath.
“Food for reflection. It will do you good,” said the Enigma, who had overheard him.
The King’s Minstrel nervously dropped the plate. “It doesn’t agree with me,” he said hurriedly.
“H’m! I don’t wonder at it,” remarked the Enigma contemptuously, and then sat still, staring as before.