"Can't I help to pick them up?" Guy asked, wondering to himself why on this night of nights that was the real beginning of Plashers Mead he should be blessed by this fortunate encounter. The two girls were wearing big white coats of some rough tweed or frieze on which the mist lay like gossamer; and, as neither of them had a hat, Guy could see that one was very dark and the other fair.
"We wondered who you were," said the dark one.
"I live at Plashers Mead," said Guy.
"I know; I've seen you often," she answered.
"And Father says every day, 'My dears, I really must call upon that young man.'"
It was the fair one who spoke, and Guy recognized that it was her laughter he had first heard.
"My other sister is somewhere close by," said the dark one.
Guy was kneeling down to gather up the mushrooms, and he looked round to see another white figure coming towards them.
"Oh, Margaret, do let's introduce him to Monica. It will be such fun," cried the fair sister.
Guy saw that Margaret was shaking her head, but nevertheless when the third sister came near enough she did introduce him. Monica was more like Margaret, but much fairer than the first fair sister; and with her reserve and her pale-gold hair she seemed, as she greeted him, to be indeed a wraith of the moon.