This was my favorite spot in Fairyland. I always came here when I wanted to relax, or think something through without any interruptions. It had once been an oasis on this otherwise barren desert planet, and was therefore the logical site for the Fairyland Compound. An underground spring in the center of the park was our main water supply. The clear, cold fluid bubbled out of the rocks to form a lovely lake which was perhaps fifty yards across at the widest part. The lakeshore was ringed with tall, unearthly palm-like trees--strange and beautiful. I found Adam-Two there beside the lake, sitting on a rock with his shoes and socks off, dangling his bare feet in the cold water and gazing upward into the swaying tree-tops. "Hi, Adam-Two!" "Hello." He didn't seem either surprised or glad to see me. He was above average height, well over six feet, and exceptionally thin. Physically awkward, too, I remembered. He invariably struck out on the Ball Diamond, invariably sliced into the rough on the Golf Course. His hair was dark and curly and he had a nervous way of ruffling it with his fingers, so that it was always in disarray. But the most unusual thing about him was his eyes. They were ice-blue, set deep back under a high, ridged forehead. They stared out at you with a kind of ruthless, unblinking intensity that made you uncomfortable, and I wondered why I'd never noticed those eyes before. It was like looking at a stranger, though I'd known him since he was little more than a baby. I sat down alongside him on the rock. "Whatcha doin'?" He didn't answer for awhile. His bare feet made white froth in the water. At last he said, "Thinking." I waited, but apparently he wasn't going to elaborate. "I hear tell you've been doing some of your thinkin' out loud," I said quietly. No answer. "It's all right to think," I went on. "That's good for us. But a feller ought to be careful about sounding off to the other Kids about somethin' maybe he don't know anything about." Still no answer. He kept lashing the water with his feet. His indifference and lack of attention were beginning to annoy me, and I was annoyed at myself for being annoyed with him and for beating around the bush with him. "What makes the trees grow?" His query was so sudden and unexpected that it caught me off guard. That made me more annoyed than ever. "You're supposed to have learned that from Mommy in school," I said curtly. Another long pause. "She says the fairies touch the trees and flowers with their magic wands. She says that's what makes them grow." "That's right." "I don't believe in fairies," he said, matter-of-factly. I scowled fiercely at him. "Oh, you _don't_, eh? First it's Santa Claus, now the fairies. The next thing we know you'll stop believing in Mommies and Daddies!"