n'--an'"--she drew up her
lank form and a look that was almost human came into her face--"'e's arsked
me to go with 'im," she finished with ineffable pride.

I am aware that this is not an unusual arrangement amongst engaged couples
in the class to which Elizabeth belongs; nevertheless I felt it was the
moment for judicious advice, knowing how ephemeral are the love-affairs of
Elizabeth. No butterfly that flits from flower to flower could be more
elusive than her young men. Our district must swarm with this fickle type.

"Do you think it right to go off on a holiday with a stranger?" I began
diffidently.

"'Im! 'E isn't a stranger," broke in Elizabeth. "'E's my young man."

"Which young man?"

"My _new_ young man."

"But don't you think it would be better if he were not such a new young
man--I mean, if he were an old young man--er--perhaps I ought to say you
should know him longer before you go away with him. It's not quite the
thing--"

"Why, wot's wrong with it?" demanded Elizabeth, puzzled. "All the girls I
know spends their 'olidays with their young men, an' then it doesn't cost
them nothink. That's the best of it. But it's the first time I've ever been
arsked," she admitted, "an' I wouldn't lose a charnce like this for
anythink."

Further appeal was useless, and with a sigh I resigned myself to the
inevitable; but when, ten days later, Elizabeth departed in a whirl of
enthusiasm and brown paper parcels I turned dejectedly to the loathsome
business of housework.

It is a form of labour which above all others I detest. My _metier_ is to
write--one day I even hope to become a great writer. But what I never hope
to become is a culinary expert. Should you command your cook to turn out a
short story she could not suffer more in the agonies of composition than I
do in making a simple Yorkshire pudding.

My household now passed into a condition of settled gloom. My nerves began
to suffer from the strain, and I came gradually to regard Henry as less of
a helpmate and more of a voracious monster demanding meals at too frequent
intervals. It made me peevish with him.

He too was far from forbearing in this crisis. In fact we were getting
disillusioned with each other.

One evening I was reflecting bitterly on matters like washing-up when Henry
came in. Only a short time before we should have greeted each other
cordially in a spirit of _camaraderie_ and affection. Now our conversation
was something like this:--