That was last year, and the honeymoon had been cut short on account of a crisis in the money market. So they had had a supplementary honeymoon this year in Europe and in London they had met Mrs MacDonald of Ben Nevis, who was down there with her two hefty daughters, Catriona and Mary. They were known to the ribald as the Three Sisters of Glenbogle, but this was an injustice to Mrs MacDonald, who was as large as her two girls put together and English at that. The yearly matrimonial campaign of Mrs MacDonald was short and sharp. They were always back in Glenbogle by the beginning of June.

The knowledge that a clanswoman of his was married to the heir of the Royde millions had filled Donald MacDonald, twenty-third of Ben Nevis, with the liveliest patriarchal emotions. Blood of an unusually disproportionate thickness compared with water coursed through his arteries, and the little veins upon his eagle’s beak glowed like neon round a shop-window.

“You must come and visit Glenbogle,” he declared. “Home of your forefathers, what? And we must work out our exact relationship.”

“But my great-great-grandfather was just a simple crofter. He left Glenbogle during the first clearance. In fact I’m afraid he was put out by the Ben Nevis of the time.”

“That was my great-grandfather Hector, twentieth of Ben Nevis. Yes, a bad business. Well, well, that’s what comes of loyalty.”

“Loyalty?” Carrie Royde repeated, perplexed.

“Loyalty to the old Stuarts. We managed to keep the land, but it was only by raising regiments for the Government. And then of course once Highlanders had started settling in Canada the only sound economic policy was to settle as many more of them as possible. That was why my grandfather had to make a second clearance. He hated doing it of course, but it was for their own good, and where would the Empire be to-day if people like my great-grandfather and grandfather hadn’t taken the bull by the horns and faced up to hard facts? Yes, I’m sure we must be related. Distantly of course. But if you and your husband come up to Glenbogle we’ll work it out.”

“Chester’s young sister is coming over to us at the end of July.”

“Is she married?”

“Oh, no, Myrtle’s only twenty. And one of the sweetest girls in the world.”

“Look here, Mrs Royde,” said the Chieftain earnestly, “you and your husband and your sister-in-law simply must come up for the Twelfth and put in at least six weeks with us at Glenbogle. My eldest boy Hector’s unfortunately out in India with his regiment, but my second boy Murdoch expects to be with us for part of August. He’s in the Navy. And Iain, my youngest boy, who’s at Cambridge, will be with us the whole of his vacation. In fact we shall be a very jolly party of young people.”