This favorable state of affairs was, however, of short duration, for after the first week the progress of the artists was unsatisfactory; they were hindered by constant interruptions, and as company began to pour in upon them, some days would pass and find little accomplished by either. It seemed a fatality that so many people should have chosen this very time to make their visits, especially people from abroad. Before long the strain of it told visibly on Mr. Whitman. Mr. Morse observed not only this, but the anxious look on Mrs. Davis's face as well, and on consulting her found she was much alarmed, and feared that their subject would give out unless some change could be made. The change was made when early the next morning the sculptor betook himself with his effects to the yard. This arrangement not merely gave additional space in the parlors where two or three spectators could sit or stand, but it also removed from them their chief attraction. Some of Mr. Whitman's friends called daily, several twice or even three times in a single day. Mr. Morse was satisfied with the new order of things and says: "In the cool shadow of the house, under a propitious sky (when it was propitious), with high boarded fence, and a grape vine wreathing itself into a pear tree for a background, my work proceeded. Occasional excursions to the studio in front for memory sketches seemed to be serving me all right." Up to this time Mrs. Davis had had undisputed possession of the yard, and this constant running back and forth was almost unendurable to her. For the excursions were not confined to the sculptor; all comers, casual or constant visitors, old friends and strangers, even ordinary passers-by--following the lead of others--deliberately took the right of way through the hall and kitchen, until it might as well have been a public passage from street to yard. Then in unfavorable weather, when the work could not go on, came another complication, as the unwieldy appurtenances had to be brought into the little canvas-covered alcove, shed and kitchen, obstructing everything. It was worse still in case of a sudden shower, when the things had to be hustled in anywhere and anyhow. But the front of the house! It was vacation time, and the "plaster man" and "painter man" at Whitman's were the great source of entertainment in the neighborhood. Children thronged the cellar doors from early morning until late at night; babies were held up to look in, and there was a general scramble for the best point of view. Pedestrians, market people and others passing the house were attracted by this manifest excitement, and there was scarcely one of them who did not pause to satisfy his or her inquisitiveness with a peep. From a distance it was difficult to discern what could be taking place at the poet's, and everybody, old and young, even the halt and the lame, seemed to have time to walk an extra block or two to ascertain. However, as there was no alternative, Mrs.