When it became known that preparations had been made to erect this costly mausoleum, it dawned upon some of his friends that he had a way of keeping things to himself. It certainly did seem strange that some of them should pay a monthly tax for his support when he had means of his own, and could contemplate such an expenditure as this. In truth people were getting tired of the constant drain upon their purses, and many had long questioned why they should so frequently be called upon, and wondered what _could_ become of the money that flowed in large and small streams into the Whitman exchequer. A few even suspected Mrs. Davis of appropriating it, and of this--unknown to her--she was accused. She was also charged with wastefulness, neglect of the invalid, and gross incompetence. The poet still kept his affairs to himself, and "it may be he thought that what he received from his admirers was but a portion of the debt they owed him." (_William Sloane Kennedy._) January and February of this winter were hard months to the sick man. He suffered with severe headaches, lassitude and inertia, added to which he had long and obstinate spells of indigestion. He remarked to some old friends that he suffered somewhat from want of persons to cheer him up; most visitors came to him to confess their own weakness and failures, and to disburden themselves of their sorrows. It was just the opposite disposition in his two constant attendants that made their companionship so agreeable to him. Warren's witty and playful sallies always provoked a quiet smile, and his mother's "inventive thoughtfulness" was rewarded with an appreciative, approving look. During March he made some gain, but it was not until April 15 that he got out of doors to enjoy the sunshine and invigorating air. With his rides new courage came to him, and in May he was able to be taken to the cemetery to witness the progress made on the tomb. But in the last ten months of his life he was so worn by pain, and had so aged, that his restful, reliable home comforts were the dearest of all earthly things to him. XV THE LAST BIRTHDAY PARTY "_There was one more birthday dinner celebrated with his friends in the Mickle Street house on May 31, 1891. Whitman was seventy-two. That privacy, which is the normal privilege of old age, was one of the kinds of happiness which he didn't experience._"--BLISS PERRY. "_Munching a little bread dipped in champagne and talking about Death. He had never been more picturesque._"--BLISS PERRY. On May 31, when Mr. Whitman had reached the age of seventy-two, his last birthday (as it proved) was celebrated by a dinner given in his own home. This arrangement was adopted as the only means of ensuring his presence, and the gathering was the final social event in that little house.