with the same family. Mistress died, and master went to London with Lizzie to look after the children—or mistress died there, and Lizzie was kept or stayed on. . . . There's such a thing (unwritten yet) as "masters'" rights in England. Certainly in the case of young housekeepers to middle-aged widowers—or husbands whose wives are not wives. "It's only natural," and no one need be any the wiser if master acts all right, in event of "trouble." . . . . But anyway, the young railwayman went to London, by the "trine " I presume, one holiday to see Lizzie, and he never went again. Perhaps he got a practical, common sensible dismissal. Or may be he heard "talk." Lizzie never "talked" herself—whether of past mistresses (or masters) to present ones, or about present ones, outside. This seems a good point in the training. Pity mistresses weren't trained in return.
Lizzie's situation was in a flat in Clovelly Mansions in Grey's Inn Road, where no one knoweth the people next door across the landing (say, seven or eight stories up), and masters and mistresses needn't be married unless they like. Here she made the acquaintance of a young man—a mere boy—in a milk-walk, who served many flats—and had a few of them in his walk of life. His brother had an interest in the firm he worked for, so he was above the ordinary run of milk-walkers—he was some class. And Lizzie kept company, or walked out with him, though I don't know how she did it, unless he never slept, or took her on the milk-walk before daylight. He got the sack for lateness and missing clients. He lingered too
