The house is in a turmoil, and the maids
Speed to and fro without a moment's stay.
The corridors and all the rooms resound
With footfalls, and the lady of the house,
Her sleeves tucked up (they always tuck their sleeves),
Her working-apron girt about her form,
Bustles around and issues her commands,
As who should say, "Behold me as I pack;
This is no place for men who do not pack.
Who play with dogs, or smoke their cigarettes,