When nearly half an hour had passed, Kathleen came behind her, and stooping down, whispered, "Dora, don't turn your wheel so quickly: you move the, foot-board too fast--don't twist the thread too much, and you'll let down more." Dora smiled and looked up to her with a grateful and flashing eye.
"Thank you, Kathleen," she replied, nodding, "I'll take your advice." The state of the contest was then proclaimed:--Betty Aikins--three dozen and ten cuts; Dora M'Mahon--three dozen and ten cuts; Hanna Cavanagh -- three dozen, six cuts and a half; Peggy Bailly--three dozen, five and a half.
On hearing this, Betty Aikin's cheek became scarlet, and as it is useless to disguise the fact, several flashing glances that partook more of a Penthesilean fire than the fearful spirit which usually characterizes the industrious pursuits of Minerva, were shot at generous Dora, who sustained her portion of the contest with singular spirit and temper.
"You may as well give it up, Dora M'Mahon," exclaimed Betty; "there never was one of your blood could open against an Aikins--the stuff is not in you to beat me." "A very little time will soon tell that," replied Dora; "but indeed, Betty, if I am doin' my best to win the kemp, I hope it's not in a bad or unfriendly spirit, but in one of fair play and good humor." The contest now went on for about fifteen minutes, with surpassing interest and animation, at the expiration of which period, the seven o'clock bell already alluded to, rang the hour for closing their labors and determining the victory.

Thus stood their relative position--Dora M'Mahon, four hanks and three cuts; Betty Aikins, four hanks; Hanna Cavanagh, three hanks and nine cuts; Peggy Bailly, three hanks and eight cuts.
When this result was made known, Betty Aikins burst into a loud fit of grief, in which she sobbed as if her very heart would break, and Kathleen stooping down, congratulated the beautiful girl upon her victory, kissing her at the same time as she spoke--an act of love and kindness in which she would have joyfully been followed by several of her male friends, if they had dared to take that delicious liberty.
The moment of victory, we believe, is that which may be relied upon as the test of true greatness.

Dora M'Mahon felt the pride of that moment in its fullest extent, but she felt it only to influence her better and nobler principles.

After casting her eyes around to gather in, as it were, that honest approbation which is so natural, and exchanging some rapid glances with the youth we have alluded to, she went over to her defeated competitor, and taking her hand said, "Don't cry, Betty, you have no right to be ashamed; sure, as you say, it's the first time you wor ever beaten; we couldn't all win; an' indeed if I feel proud now, everyone knows an' says I have a right to be so; for where was there--ay, or where is there--such a spinner as you are?
"Shake hands now an' there's a kiss for you.

If I won this kemp, it was won more by chance than by anything else." These generous expressions were not lost on Betty; on the contrary, they soothed her so much that she gave her hand cordially to her young and interesting conqueress, after which they all repaired to a supper of new milk and flummery, than which there is nothing more delicious within the wide range of luxury.