Of course Eyebright knew no more about Wympland than she had learned in her geography lessons, and we all know how little geography books ever tell us about the really nice places in the world. So, although she knew as well as any other little girl that Wympland has no physical features and its inhabitants have no occupation, that its climate is dull and foggy and its government is a sleeping monarchy, she was not in the least prepared for what she did see.
"Well," said a voice somewhere near, "what do you think of it?"
Just in front of them a wymp was standing on his head, which is a wymp's favourite way of resting his legs. He seemed to expect an answer, so the King did his best to think of one that should be both polite and truthful. As a matter of fact, he did not think much of Wympland at all.
"It—it is rather full of fog, isn't it?" he began, a little nervously.
The wymp looked distinctly hurt; but before he had time to get angry Eyebright put things right in her quiet little way.
"I don't think it is yellow fog," she said; "it is more like dull sunshine."
The wymp fairly wympled when he heard this.
"You've hit it!" he cried in a delighted tone; "that's what it is really. It's the folks from the front of the sun who call it yellow fog; they're blinded by their own sunshine, they are. This is the back of the sun, you see, and the sunshine naturally loses a bit of its polish by the time it has worked through."
"I think I like bright sunshine best," observed the King.
"That is absurd!" said the wymp. "Why, you can't look at it without blinking, to begin with. In Wympland you get all the advantages of the sun and none of the drawbacks,—no sunblinds or sunstrokes or sunspots! You must be a stupid boy if you can't see that!"