The Sisters arrived some six hours later after Seldon and Dors had slept some more, hoping to readjust their biological clocks. The Sisters entered the apartment shyly, almost on tiptoe. Their gowns (which, it turned out, were termed "kirtles" in the Mycogenian dialect) were soft velvety gray, each uniquely decorated by a subtle pattern of fine, darker gray webbing. The kirtles were not entirely unattractive, but they were certainly most efficient at covering up any human feature. And, of course, their heads were bald and their faces were devoid of any ornamentation. They darted speculative glances at the touch of blue at the corners of Dorss eyes and at the slight red stain at the corners of her lips. For a few moments, Seldon wondered how one could be certain that the Sisters were truly Sisters.
The answer came at once with the Sisters politely formal greetings. Both twittered and chirped. Seldon, remembering the grave tones of Sunmaster and the nervous baritone of Graycloud, suspected that women, in default of obvious sexual identification, were forced to cultivate distinctive voices and social mannerisms.
Im Raindrop Forty-Three," twittered one, "and this is my younger sister."
"Raindrop Forty-Five," chirped the other. "Were very strong on Raindrops in our cohort." She giggled.
"I am pleased to meet you both," said Dors gravely, "but now I must know how to address you. I cant just say Raindrop, can I?"
"No," said Raindrop Forty-Three. "You must use the full name if we are both here."
Seldon said, "How about just Forty-Three and Forty-Five, ladies?"
They both stole a quick glance at him, but said not a word.
Dors said softly, "Ill deal with them, Hari."
Seldon stepped back. Presumably, they were single young women and, very likely, they were not supposed to speak to men. The older one seemed the graver of the two and was perhaps the more puritanical. I............