ard where he had gone to admire my fowls, in which I take a
just pride. Old Henry, my colored servant, was playing the part of host;
for there was no one else at home. When I made my appearance, the
chickens had evidently become a matter of secondary interest.

Jamesby, a rising young banker of the city, was sitting on an empty box
near the fence, and Henry was standing before him, leaning upon his
cane, chuckling and talking in his customary deferential manner, which
has always made him a very acceptable servant about my premises.

I approached without being observed, and did not hail them, for I did
not wish to intrude too suddenly upon what appeared to be a very amusing
subject of conversation. I heard Jamesby say laughingly, "Why, it was in
the paper this morning--five or six columns of it! It was a great big
yarn. I can't imagine why he never told you anything about it."

I knew what they were talking about. I was well aware that I had told my
tale of Money Island for publication; for had I not been sought after by
men, women, and children for every imaginable explanation and sidelight
relating to the story which might have been omitted from the MS
furnished the printer? And had I not been asked to repeat by living
voice facts in the narrative which I had written, as I thought, with
entire clearness in the published story? The boys had all read the
story, and I had been put to my wits' end to answer the questions asked
by them; but I had assured several of them that if they would take a
copy of the paper, go to the Island and there read it on the very spot
where the treasure had been buried, and then and there take a careful
survey of the situation, there would be no difficulty in their
comprehending even the slightest detail. This seemed to me to be a very
sensible suggestion; and I suppose some of them will carry it out.

While I really enjoyed the experience of having entertained so many
people that day, I was fairly well fatigued when I reached home, where I
thought I could at least be quiet and free from the constant inquiries
of interested friends.

But here was Jamesby with designs against me! He had dashed my fond
hopes of rest; although he was somehow always considerate and
endurable. I could never become impatient with him, even if I knew he
was going to make demands upon me for more information concerning Money
Island.

"What is Uncle Henry telling you, Jamesby?" I asked on drawing closer to
them.