"Good morning," the foreman said with some caution. "My name is Keech."
"And mine's Houlihan, as I've told you. Are you convinced now that I have no intention of doing you any injury?"
"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."