Florrie was a newcomer in Winboro. Her father had recently come to take a position in the largest factory of the small town. For this reason Florrie was slighted at school by some of the ruder girls and severely left alone by most of the others. Some, it is true, tried at the start to be friends, but Florrie, too keenly sensitive to the atmosphere around her to respond, was believed to be decidedly dull and mopy. She retreated further and further into herself and was almost as solitary at Miss Braxton's as if she had been on a desert island. "They don't like me because I am plainly dressed and because my father is not a wealthy man," thought Florrie bitterly. And there was enough truth in this in regard to many of Miss Braxton's girls to make a very uncomfortable state of affairs. "Here's a letter for you, Flo," said her brother Jack at noon. "Got it at the office on my way home. Who is your swell correspondent?" Florrie opened the dainty, perfumed note and read it with a face that, puzzled at first, suddenly grew radiant. "Listen, Jack," she said excitedly. "Dear Florrie: "Nan is confined to house, room, and sofa with a sprained foot. As she will be all alone this afternoon, won't you come down and spend it with her? She very much wants you to come--she is so lonesome and thinks you will be just the one to cheer her up. "Yours cordially, "Maude Wallace." "Are you going?" asked Jack. "Yes--I don't know--I'll think about it," said Florrie absently. Then she hurried upstairs to her room. "Shall I go?" she thought. "Yes, I will. I dare say Nan has asked me just out of pity because I was not invited to the picnic. But even so it was sweet of her. I've always thought I would like those Wallace girls if I could get really acquainted with them. They've always been nice to me, too--I don't know why I am always so tongue-tied and stupid with them. But I'll go anyway." That afternoon Mrs. Wallace came into Nan's room. "Nan, dear, Florrie Hamilton is downstairs asking for you." "Florrie--Hamilton?" "Yes. She said something about a note you sent her this morning. Shall I ask her to come up?" "Yes, of course," said Nan lamely. When her mother had gone out she fell back on her pillows and thought rapidly. "Florrie Hamilton! Maude must have addressed that note to her by mistake. But she mustn't know it was a mistake--mustn't suspect it. Oh, dear! What shall I ever find to talk to her about? She is so quiet and shy." Further reflections were cut short by Florrie's entrance. Nan held out her hand with a chummy smile. "It's good of you to give your afternoon up to visiting a cranky invalid," she said heartily. "You don't know how lonesome I've been since Maude went away. Take off your hat and pick out the nicest chair you can find, and let's be comfy."