When the first repairs had been made in the house, she had taken the bill to him for approval and payment. He had simply glanced at it, and returned it with the words: "I think it must be all right." She had remained standing in the doorway until, silent, seemingly absorbed in his reading and oblivious of her presence, he had made her feel so uncomfortable that she had quietly glided away to pay the carpenter out of her own purse. This happened so early in their housekeeping together that she, so charitable by nature, had excused him on the ground that, having no money, he had disliked to talk further about the bill. But a year had passed, she understood his position better, and she could not excuse him again on this plea. She had mentioned the urgent need of further repairs (and when were they not needed in this little rookery?) and he had promptly replied: "Have it done; certainly, certainly; have everything done that is required." The result was still the same; although ordering the work, he was just as indifferent as before in regard to settling for it.
And so it had gone on in all cases where money had been needed, until Mrs. Davis, who was neither dull nor obtuse, saw that it was merely a matter of choice with him whether he paid for things promptly or not. The receipted bills she had carefully filed away, but what proof had she that they had been met with her own money?
At the expiration of the second year, Mr. Whitman at his own expense had the water carried upstairs and a bathtub put in. This was a blessing to both of them, and Mrs. Davis ungrudgingly saw a portion of her own room—the one little back chamber—sacrificed that it might be made possible.
Up to the time of the sunstroke she had made a number of futile attempts to introduce the subject of finances, but he had simply uttered "Ah!" (what a world of meaning he could put into that monosyllable!) and had silenced her with a look.
An observer says: "I found Whitman sitting on the front stoop talking with a negative pugnacious reformer. The poet entertained his ideas without a trace of impatience or severity of judgment, and yet he was capable of quietly chloroforming him if he became too disagreeable." Another writes: "This leading trait of his character lasted until life glimmered faintly." It was this "leading trait" that prevented Mrs. Davis from introducing any subject not pleasing to him. Again: "He has his stern as well as sad moods; in the former there is a look of power in his face that almost makes one tremble." Mrs. Davis had no fear of Mr. Whitman; he never gave her cause to tremble, but he quietly chloroformed her times without number.
The expenses of the house were not light; amongst other things, two coal fires in winter, and a wood fire much of the time. Wood was a luxury to him, but it was an expensive item to his housekeeper, and the little stove in his sleeping room devoured it like an insatiate monster. "He enjoyed a wood fire." Then she supplied his table and entertained his guests—his many guests. She never bothered him; was always on hand and ready to help him to mature his plans, however inexpedient or impracticable they might appear to her.