Carrie put a finger to her lips and flashed a glance at the Chieftain, who went charging from the room to see that the party from the moors had gathered in the courtyard of the Castle, convinced that between him and that pretty little red-haired American-Canadian with her roots in the peat of his own moors there existed a secret understanding. Well, so much the better. If Murdoch could manage to make the running with that attractive little sister-in-law of hers, the closer the understanding between him and Mrs Chester Royde Jr. there was the better. As he climbed up into the big pre-war Daimler (there was only one war to date fashion at the time of this tale) which was to drive him and most of his house-party to the Ballochy Pass where the ponies would be waiting for them, he wished regretfully that the Clanranalds were not in India, because after all Hector as the Younger of Ben Nevis was the son of his most entitled to benefit from the share of the Royde millions that would be Miss Myrtle Royde’s portion. He looked round to where the engagingly plump little heiress was seated beside his second son Murdoch in the sports car whose noisiness and vulgarity he had hitherto deplored and reflected that after all there might be something in these foul products of the post-war age—sometimes.

He turned to his principal guest, Chester Royde Jr., who in his costume for the moors looked like a full-page colour advertisement in the pages of Esquire or Vanity Fair designed to haunt, to startle and waylay the most casual reader.

“And this is really your first experience of our Twelfth, Royde?” he asked.

The cork-pop with which his guest answered him Ben Nevis had learnt by now to recognize as an affirmative.

“We’re expecting plenty of birds this year.”

“That’s fine,” the young financier twanged enthusiastically.

Up in the North Tower of the Castle Carrie Royde watched the cars down the glen turn off to the right and start winding slowly up the narrow road that led toward the Pass of Ballochy. Her Macdonald heart beat faster at the memories the name brought back. She opened Summer Days Among the Heather again: