I watched them go, and my heart thumped a little faster. My gang, I thought.... Not _really_ mine, of course, except from the standpoint of responsibility, but I couldn't have loved them more if I'd sired each and every one of them. And Mommy (sometimes I almost forgot her name was Ruth) felt the same way. It was a funny thing, this paternal feeling--even a little weird, if I stopped to remember that a baker's dozen of them were actually older than I. But a child is still a child, whatever his chronological age may be, and the inhabitants of Fairyland were children in every sense except the physical. It was a big job, being Daddy to so many kids--but one that had set lightly on my shoulders, so far. They were a wonderful gang, healthy and happy. _Really_ happy. And I couldn't think of a single place in the Universe where you'd find another hundred and thirty-seven human beings about whom you could make that statement. A wonderful gang ... all sizes and shapes and personalities, ranging in physical age from five to forty-three. Mental age ... well, that was another story. After years of research and experimentation, we'd settled on eight as the optimum of mental development. And so, there wasn't a Kid in Fairyland mentally older than eight years.... _Or was there?_ Mike-One's confused story of his friend Adam-Two re-echoed in my head. _He says he don't think there is a Cold Side of Number One Sun. He thinks it's hot all the way around. He says he thinks Santa Claus is just pretend...._ Something was wrong. Something big and important and dangerous, and I didn't know what I was going to do about it. Adam-Two, unlike some of the older Kids, had been _born_ in Fairyland. There wasn't one single solitary thing in his life history to account for this sudden, terrifying curiosity and insight. Nothing. Not even pre-natal influence, if there is such a thing. I wondered if Ruth had noticed anything strange about him. If so, she'd never mentioned it. I decided I'd better have a Daddy-and-son chat with young Adam right away. * * * * * I walked through the Midway in the warm, twin-star sunshine, waving and shouting back at the Kids on the rides who shrieked "Hi, Daddy!" as they caught sight of me. Nobody had seen Adam-Two, so I escaped after a brief roller coaster ride ("Aw, come on Daddy, just once!") with a trio of husky thirty-year-olds who called themselves the "Three Bears." Adam-Two wasn't at the Playground either, nor the Swimming Pool, nor the Tennis Courts. I decided he must be in the Recreation Hall, so I headed in that direction, taking a short cut through Pretty Park at the north end of the Midway. The park was a big place, stretching east and west from the Baseball Diamond to the Pony Stables at the edge of Camping Woods, and northward as far as the Golf Course.