engaged to at Clapton Hill tried to get it out of him, and threw him
over partly because he refused, and partly because, as she said, he
fairly gave her the "'ump." And then when, some time after, he let out
to some one carelessly that he had been in Fairyland and wanted to go
back, and when the thing spread and the simple badinage of the
countryside came into play, he threw up his situation abruptly, and
came to Bignor to get out of the fuss. But as to what had happened in
Fairyland none of these people knew. There the gathering in the Village
Room went to pieces like a pack at fault. One said this, and another
said that.

Their air in dealing with this marvel was ostensibly critical and
sceptical, but I could see a considerable amount of belief showing
through their guarded qualifications. I took a line of intelligent
interest, tinged with a reasonable doubt of the whole story.

"If Fairyland's inside Aldington Knoll," I said, "why don't you dig it
out?"

"That's what I says," said the young ploughboy.

"There's a-many have tried to dig on Aldington Knoll," said the
respectable elder, solemnly, "one time and another. But there's
none as goes about to-day to tell what they got by digging."

The unanimity of vague belief that surrounded me was rather impressive;
I felt there must surely be SOMETHING at the root of so much conviction,
and the already pretty keen curiosity I felt about the real facts
of the case was distinctly whetted. If these real facts were to be
got from any one, they were to be got from Skelmersdale himself;