But shyly, Lafayette was shrouded with pearl-white mist, the edges of it catching the rose on Lincoln–veiled and hidden by itself thinking–wondering why on earth two such strange tiny beings had climbed her that day, but she had suffered them to come unharmed and see her treasures. And she gathered her long undulating shroud about her closer, and waited for the feathers to come. Some mountains love to stand free, but some like Lafayette and Washington and Moosilauke love more the white mist and the frost feathers.
Although the name of the mountain hut isn’t given in Barbara’s story, she can only be referring to Lakes of the Clouds, which is about an hour’s walk from the summit of New England’s highest peak, Mt. Washington. Oakes Gulf, where “Jo” makes camp, is not far from the hut, to the south-south-east, between today’s Dry River Trail and Davis Path. It is beautiful country.