incidental, rather than the main end in view.

There were times, and they were by no means rare, when Katharine's
native sweetness showed itself, and then the girls welcomed her to
their circle. Florence was her favorite among them, while she
openly courted Alan's favor, to the amusement of the boy's mother,
who smiled quietly to herself over his unconsciousness of her
attempts and his continued, unswerving devotion to Polly.

"But what I don't understand," she said to Florence, one day, when
they were out for a walk together, "is how you girls ever happened
to pick up Jean Dwight."

"Pick her up? What do you mean?" asked Florence, meeting her
friend's look with a glance which was almost defiant, for she was
too loyal to Jean to fail to notice the scorn in Katharine's tone
and manner.

"You know what I mean, Florence, so don't pretend to be as absurd
as Polly Adams and Molly are. Of course you and I both know that
you three girls could have the pick of the town, if you chose; and
I don't see why you take up with the daughter of a carpenter."

Polly had called Florence "a flat," but there was no suggestion of
weakness in her reply now. On the contrary, she drew up her small
figure to its full height, and spoke with a simple, childish
dignity which might have put to shame her companion.

"You needn't say any more about it, Katharine. It is just because
we do have the pick of the town that we have taken up with Jean