Carrie had been tempted to try to give Myrtle the slip, but on reflection she had decided that in the matter of Alan Macmillan Myrtle held a stronger position as the sister of Chester than she as his wife. After all, she told herself, the fact that the poet was a very attractive young man should not be considered anything more than an agreeable reward for her response to ancestral demands upon her allegiance. The situation had been changed by Chester’s acquisition of Knocknacolly and his presentation of it to herself. It would not be fair to Chester or herself to let Myrtle suppose that her plan to make Knocknacolly the centre of a Scottish renaissance was inspired by the beaux yeux of Alan Macmillan. And if she gave Myrtle an impression she was trying to sidestep her over Alan Macmillan that was just what she would think.

“Myrtle dear,” she said to her sisler-ih-law after breakfast, “I do feel we ought to see Mr Macmillan to-day if we possibly can. I was talking to Chester this morning and he agrees with me it’ll be much better to have a Scottish lawyer do the business about Knocknacolly. So I think Mr Buchanan would be the very one, don’t you?”

“Sure.”

“And then we must have an architect, and I expect either he or Mr Macmillan will know of a good young architect. That will mean they can all go and camp out in the lodge, which will make it so much pleasanter. I’m so afraid if we don’t see Mr Macmillan before he goes he may not want to come back to this part of the country. And I think it will be wiser not to say we know who took their tents, don’t you? I mean, their pride might be upset and they might want to revenge themselves on Ben Nevis. They’re so high-spirited.”

“It was you who started off trying to give them back the tents.”

“I know. It was too impulsive of me. I am very impulsive, Myrtle. That’s my Celtic blood.”

“Yes, your feminine Celtic blood.”

“But you will come with me this morning, Myrtle? Please do. I want to take Mr Macmillan some provisions, because I’m sure he’s run out of them by now.”

“Sure, I’ll come with you. But how are we going to get hold of any provisions?”

“Why, I thought if you asked Mrs Parsall the housekeeper to make you up lunch and tea for two, I’d ask Toker to make me up lunch and tea for two.”

“Won’t that seem a little funny?” Myrtle suggested.

“Oh, they’ll just think we each thought the other wasn’t going to do it. We can pack everything in my lunch-basket.”

Myrtle looked doubtful.

“I’m positive they’ll think it kind of queer.”

“But they expect Americans to be queer,” Carrie pointed out.