And timidly he said, “My love, perchance, the better plan
’Twere to hie to the tinsmith’s shop and bid him send a man?”
His spouse replied indignantly: “So you would have me then
To waste our substance upon riotous tinsmith’s journeymen?
‘A penny saved is twopence earned,’ rash prodigal of pelf,
Go! false one, go! and I will black and set it up myself.”
When thus she spoke the husband knew that she had sealed his doom;
“Fill high the bowl with Samian lead and gimme down that broom,”
He cried; then to the outhouse marched. Apart the doors he hove
And closed in deadly conflict with his enemy, the stove.