After a while the song stopped, and the fairies drew all together in a cluster, and were quite still.
"What does that mean?" asked Phil.
"They are disturbed; there is a storm coming. We shall have to return."
"I am so sorry! I wanted to know more about you, and to see what you wear."
"Mortals must not approach us too nearly. We may draw near to you. See, I will stand before you."
"You seem to be all moon-shine," said Phil.
"Yes," said the fairy, laughing merrily; "these robes of ours are of mountain mist, spangled with star-dust so fine that it makes us only glisten. We have to wear the lightest sort of fabric, so that we are not hindered in our long flights."
"Do you know flower fairies?"
"Yes; but we are of a very different race. I suppose you thought we dressed in rose leaves and rode on bumble-bees; but we do not; we are more—now for a long word—more ethereal." And again the fairy laughed.
"Ether means air," said Phil, quite proudly. "Do you know any fairy stories?" he asked.