Getting Mr. Whitman ready, and seeing that he was in no way overtaxed, was of much importance, and it was carefully looked after. At the appointed hour, seven P. M., the guests assembled, and there being no reception room, each took his or her assigned place at the table; then, when all were seated, the venerable host was brought down. He was met with congratulations, and led to the head of the table. There were twenty-seven men and five women present, and not until the greetings were over did he and his old friends observe that Mrs. Davis had been left out. Room at the table was not wanting, as three chairs were vacant through the non-arrival of the expected occupants; besides, two of the ladies were strangers to the poet. Mrs. Davis felt the slight, although she could not very well have formed one of the company in any event, her presence being indispensable elsewhere. It was a good dinner and well served, all things considered. The day was insufferably hot, and the windows and the front door were left wide open. Many noticed and remarked that during the dinner no loungers were about the front of the house, "no boys looking in, yelling or throwing stones or mud--no curiosity gazers. Respect for Mr. Whitman possibly prevented this." (_Thomas Donaldson._) Respect for Mr. Whitman in part, no doubt, but a greater respect for a contract made beforehand; Mrs. Davis had bought them off; something good for each one of them for good conduct. She was not so successful in securing the same considerate behavior from Watch, her coach dog, for to her great mortification, just as one gentleman commenced to read "O Captain! my Captain!" he came into the parlor doorway, "put his nose up in the air and uttered a series of the most ungodly howls ever listened to." (_Thomas Donaldson._) He continued to howl until the reading ceased, then abruptly left the room. The dinner lasted until ten o'clock--three hours. A stenographer took down the toasts, responses, scraps of conversation, etc. But while these were at their height, one compliment, one little speech, was not recorded. Mr. Whitman looked around the table as if seeking something, and on being asked, "Is there anything you want, Walt?" replied, "Yes, I want a piece of _Mary's bread_." It was brought to him. Mr. Whitman, no doubt, feeling that Mary had been slighted, took this peculiar way of his own to show his regard for her. The next day the tables and chairs were taken away, but the committee's promises of assistance were probably forgotten, for regardless of the poor days Mr. Whitman passed in consequence of the dinner, and his need of extra care, no help whatever was proffered and Mrs. Davis and Warren were left to right the house by degrees, working as they could.