ed 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?"

"Say?" laughed Mr Mervyn. "Oh, the poor old soul lets me take it to
her as a favour, and says she eats it to oblige me."

"It's so funny with the poor people about," said Fin; "they want things,
but they won't take them as if you were being charitable to them; they
all try to make it seem like a favour they are doing you."

"Well, I don't know that I object to that much," said Mr Mervyn.

"They're all pleased enough to see us," continued Fin; "but when Aunt
Matty and papa go they preach at them, and the poor people don't like
it."

"Fin!" said Tiny, in a warning voice.

"I don't care," said Fin; "it's only Mr Mervyn, and we may speak to
him. I say, Mr Mervyn, did you hear about old Mrs Poltrene and Aunt
Matty?"

"Fin!" whispered Tiny, colouring.

"I _will_ tell Mr Mervyn; it isn't any harm," cried downright Fin.

And her sister, seeing that she only made matters worse, remained
silent.

"Mr Mervyn, you know old Mrs Poltrene, of course?"

"Oh yes, the old fisherman's wife down by the cliff."

"Yes; and Aunt Matty went to see her, and talked to her in her way, and
it made the old lady so cross that--that--oh, I mustn't te