long at the servant's entrance of Lizzie's flat, planning for the future—a room and a bit for furniture. They have no time to talk of love and such nonsense.
But before that Lizzie took him, one holiday, to Chawlton to see her folks. Which was right, and good, and natural, and is a pleasing feature of young English pre-marital life. But Lizzie's mistress was young and something human, and had a sense of humour, unusual for young mistresses in flats, where they needn't be married to their husbands unless they like. And Lizzie confided to her, in all seriousness, but in her nothing-in-particular tone, that she was taking Mr. Jinkins (that was young Jenkins, the milk-walker) home, in order to see whether it would " make some talk in Shepperton," where Lizzie had some friends amongst maids and others. Now, as Shepperton was a better-class village, this would seem to give some idea of Lizzie's intelligence and the height of her social ambition, but it doesn't, unless you know that, even in upper-class villages, mistresses drive round and make calls solely to talk about their servants, old or new. I knew one lady, who ordered her carriage and drove a distance to tell her friend that she believed her maid was, etc., etc., etc., etc.
But Lizzie and her young man from London certainly did make some talk in Chawlton, where a little talk goes a long way—with additions and repetitions, reiteration, correction, and denial—and lasts a long time. For a generation sometimes.
But Mr. Jenkins got the vulgar Australian sack, and Lizzie gave him her savings to buy cans, get cards
