"Mr. Houlihan," said Keech, drawing a kind of peppered dignity up about himself, "in such matters I am never fully convinced. After living for many centuries I am all too acutely aware of the perversity of human nature." "Yes," I said. "Well, as you will quickly see, all I want to do is talk." I nodded as I spoke, and sat down cross-legged upon the grass. "Any Irishman wants to talk, Mr. Houlihan." "And often that's _all_ he wants," I said. "Sit down with me now, and stop staring as if I were a snake returned to the Island." He shook his head and remained standing. "Have your say, Mr. Houlihan. And afterward we'll appreciate it if you'll go away and leave us to our work." "Well, now, your work," I said, and glanced at the spaceship. "That's exactly what's got me curious." The others had edged in a bit now and were standing in a circle, intently staring at me. I took out my pipe. "Why," I asked, "would a group of little people be building a spaceship here in America--out in this lonely place?" Keech stared back without much expression, and said, "I've been wondering how you guessed it was a spaceship. I was surprised enough when you told me you could see us but not overwhelmingly so. I've run into believers before who could see the little people. It happens every so often, though not as frequently as it did a century ago. But knowing a spaceship at first glance! Well, I must confess that _does_ astonish me." "And why wouldn't I know a spaceship when I see one?" I said. "It just so happens I'm a doctor of science." "A doctor of science, now," said Keech. "Invited by the American government to work on the first moon rocket here at the nuclear propulsion center. Since it's no secret I can advise you of it." "A scientist, is it," said Keech. "Well, now, that's very interesting." "I'll make no apologies for it," I said. "Oh, there's no need for apology," said Keech. "Though in truth we prefer poets to scientists. But it has just now crossed my mind, Mr. Houlihan that you, being a scientist, might be of help to us." "How?" I asked. "Well, I might try starting at the beginning," he replied. "You might," I said. "A man usually does." Keech took out his own pipe--a clay dudeen--and looked hopeful. I gave him a pinch of tobacco from my pouch. "Well, now," he said, "first of all you're no doubt surprised to find us here in America." "I am surprised from time to time to find myself here," I said. "But continue." "We had to come here," said Keech, "to learn how to make a spaceship." "A spaceship, now," I said, unconsciously adopting some of the old manner. "Leprechauns are not really mechanically inclined," said Keech. "Their major passions are music and laughter and mischief, as anyone knows." "Myself included," I agreed. "Then why do you need a spaceship?" "Well, if I may use an old expression, we've had a feelin' lately that we're not long for this world. Or let me put it this way. We feel the world isn't long for itself."