Sophia only equalled by her intense admiration of her.

So what was there for Phebe to do? She was fond of music, and whistled
like a bird, but she had no piano and did not know one note from
another; and she did not care for books, which was fortunate, as their
wee library, all told, did not count a hundred volumes, most of which,
too, were Miss Lydia's, and were as weak and wishy-washy as that poor
little woman herself. And she did not care for sewing, though she made
nearly all her own clothes, besides attending at any number of
impromptu Dorcas meetings, where the needy were the unskilled rich
instead of the helpless poor, so that of course her labor did not count
at all as a virtue, since it was not doing good, but only obliging a
friend. And she did not care for parties, though she generally went and
was always asked, being such a help as regarded wall-flowers, while
none of the young girls dreaded her as a rival, it being a well known
fact that Phebe Lane, general favorite though she was, somehow or other
never "took" with the men, or at least not sufficiently to damage any
other enterprising girl's prospects. Why this was so, was hard to say.
Phebe was pretty, and lovable, and sweet tempered. If she was not
sparkling or witty, neither was she sarcastic; and bright enough she
was certainly, though not intellectual, and though she talked little
save with a few. It was strange. True as steel, possessed of that keen
sense of justice and honor so strangely lacking in many women, with a
passionate capability for love and devotion and self-sacrifice beyond
power of fathoming, and above all with a clinging womanly nature that
yearned for affection as a flower longs for light, she was yet the only
girl out of all her set who had never had any especial attention.
Perhaps it was because she was no flirt. Bell Masters said no girl
could get along who did not flirt. Perhaps because in her excessive
truthfulness she was sometimes blunt and almost brusque; it is