"No," he said, rubbing his ear with the stem of his pipe, "it aint that, my dear; I meant figgeratively, as old Jones says." Mrs Jenkles threw the match into the fire, and resumed her work for a few minutes; then glanced at the clock, and put away her work. "Yes, Sam, I shall go to Upper Holloway to-morrow, and see what I think." "Do, my lass, do," said Sam, drearily. Then, in an undertone, as he tapped his pipe-bowl on the hob, "Well, it's out now, and no mistake. Shall we go to bed?" Volume 1, Chapter VIII. "OUR NEXT MEETING." Fin Rea stood gazing down for a few moments, and then said--"No, indeed, I can't, Mr Mervyn. Pray go." "Oh, Mr Mervyn," said Tiny, softly, "don't tease her any more." "It is hard to refuse such a request," said the newcomer; "but, as trespassers, you must leave me to administer punishment. And, besides, I owe Miss Fin here a grudge. She has been laughing at me, I hear." "I'll never do so any more, Mr Mervyn--I won't indeed," cried Fin; "only let me off this time." "Jump, you little gipsy, jump," cried Mr Mervyn. "It's too high--I daren't," cried Fin. "I have seen you leap down from a place twice as high, my little fawn. Now, then, jump at once." Fin looked despairingly round for a few moments, then made a piteous grimace, and lastly sprang boldly down into the strong arms, which held her as if she had been a child. "Now," said Mr Mervyn, "about the mistletoe?" "Mr Mervyn, pray. Oh, it's too bad. I..." "Don't be frightened, little one," he said, tenderly, as he retained her with one hand, to smooth her breeze-blown hair with the other. "There, come along; let me help you down." But Fin started from him, like the fawn he had called her, and sprang down the great bank. "Mind my soup," shouted Mr Mervyn; and only just in time, for it was nearly overset. Then he helped Tiny down, blushing and vexed; but no sooner were they in the lane, than Fin clapped her hands together, and exclaimed-- "Oh, Mr Mervyn, don't go and tell everybody what a rude tomboy of a sister Tiny is blessed with. I am so ashamed." "Come along, little ones," he said, laughing, as he stooped to pick up the tin, and at the same time handed Fin her basket. "How nice the soup smells," said Fin, mischievously. "Yes; you promised to come and taste it some day," said Mr Mervyn; "but you have never been. I'm very proud of my soup, young ladies, and have many a hard fight with Mrs Dykes about it." "Do you?" said Tiny, for he looked seriously at her as he spoke. "What about?" said Fin, coming to her sister's help. "About the quantity of water," said Mr Mervyn. "You know we've a big copper for the soup; and Mrs Dykes has an idea in her head that eight quarts of water go to the gallon, mine being that there are only four." "Why, of course," laughed Fin. "So," said Mr Mervyn, "she says I have the soup too strong, while I say she wants to make it too weak." "And what does old Mrs Trelyan say?"