 Why is the narrator unafraid to work openly in the park among the leprechauns? Others aren't believers
Every writer must seek his own Flowery Kingdom in imagination's wide demesne, and if that search can begin and end on Earth his problem has been greatly simplified. A one-time Air Force officer, he has turned to fantasy in his lighter moments, to bring us such brightly sparkling little gems as this. But its small, mischievous pilots had a rendezvous with destiny—on Earth. I had to figure everything into it—diameter of the nozzle, sharpness of the edge, the velocity of approach to the point of discharge, atomic weight and structure— Oh, there is so much of this that if you're not a nuclear engineer yourself it's certain to weary you. Perhaps you had better take my word for it that without this equation—correctly stated, mind you—mankind would be well advised not to make a first trip to the moon. Not children, but a group of little people, hard at work. I had seen them first as a boy of eight, and then, very briefly again, on my tenth birthday. "Come along now, people!" said this crotchety one, looking straight at me. I smiled, and the foreman of the leprechauns—if that's what he was—saw me smile and became stiff and alert for a moment, as though suspecting that perhaps I actually could see him.
 He knows that it is rare to find believers among his colleagues and fellow humans
 He feels that he and the leprechauns can protect themselves through cunning ways and physical strength  He doubts that his colleagues at the Center would ever venture outdoors to the park area  He knows that it is rare to find believers among his colleagues and fellow humans  He believes strongly in the importance of his collaboration with the leprechauns and is willing to take the risk of being discovered