“The decencies of a civilized existence are wasted on women like that,” Ben Nevis declared. “They fought like wild cats. One of them went for me with her stick. And Catriona and Mary set about them.”

“I have already spoken to Catriona and Mary and expressed my surprise at their allowing themselves to be mixed up in such a disgraceful brawl,” Mrs MacDonald boomed.

“Disgraceful brawl?”

“Disgraceful brawl, Donald,” his wife boomed on a steady note.

“A short scuffle in the heather with sixteen male and female hikers is not a disgraceful brawl.”

“That is what people will call it, especially when they hear you encouraged your own daughters to take part in it. Now please give me the keys and I shall endeavour to undo a little of the harm you have done.”

“I should be much obliged if you would have the goodness to allow me to finish my dressing first,” said the Chieftain, grasping at haughtiness but landing in pomposity.

“I am not going to move from here, Donald, until you give me the key of the dungeon in which these girls have been shut up. I presume you will not attempt to use force with me.”

Mac ’ic Eachainn looked at his wife. Her eyes were steady as an owl’s. He hesitated. Then he produced from the pocket of his dressing-gown a bunch of very large keys.

“If you’re going to let the women out you may as well let the men out too,” he said sulkily. His wife rose with a sigh of relief. “But you are not to offer them supper,” he added. “I refuse to have them fed. You hear that, Trixie?”

“I shall certainly offer them supper, Donald. And I shall be extremely relieved in my mind if they accept the invitation, for in that case we might hope they would be willing to consider the incident closed.”

“They would be willing?” Ben Nevis exploded. “Let them think themselves lucky that I don’t keep them locked up for a week on bread and water as I’d intended.”

“Donald!” his wife boomed.

“What is it now?”

“Don’t be childish. It detracts from your dignity.”