If she could have done so, Kit would have gladly selected for herself her own special tree in the forest primeval, rather than have fallen heir to any ancestral castle such as Helen hankered for.
So, the little town perched high on the bluff above the lake had appealed to her mightily.

Although from a western standpoint it was quite old, dating at least five years before the outbreak of the Civil War, from the colonial standpoint it was a mere youngster.
"Historic tradition ?" repeated Kit.

"When all around here are the old Indian trails, and the footprints left by the French explorers.

I just wish I could get Billie out here for a little while.

He'll settle down in some old school that thinks it is wonderful because John Smith built a camp-fire on its site once upon a time, or Pocahontas planted corn in its back field." Kit sighed, tucked her mother's and father's letters in her sweater pocket and started off for her favorite lookout point on the bluff.