"I have always trusted Fortune," he would say, "and to me she is not
fickle."

"Who would be fickle if your Excellency were pleased to trust her?"
the signorina would respond, with a glance of almost fond admiration.

This sort of thing did not please McGregor. He made no concealment
of the fact that he claimed the foremost place among the signorina's
admirers, utterly declining to make way even for the President. The
latter took his boorishness very quietly; and I could not avoid the
conclusion that the President held, or thought he held, the trumps.
I was, naturally, intensely jealous of both these great men, and,
although I had no cause to complain of my treatment, I could not
stifle some resentment at the idea that I was, after all, an outsider
and not allowed a part in the real drama that was going on. My
happiness was further damped by the fact that luck ran steadily
against me, and I saw my bonus dwindling very rapidly. I suppose I
may as well be frank, and confess that my bonus, to speak strictly,
vanished within six months after I first set foot in "Mon Repos,"
and I found it necessary to make that temporary use of the "interest
fund," which the President had indicated as open to me under the terms
of our bargain. However, my uneasiness on this score was lightened
when the next installment of interest was punctually paid, and, with
youthful confidence, I made little doubt that luck would turn before
long.

Thus time passed on, and the beginning of 1884 found us all leading an
apparently merry and untroubled life. In public affairs the temper
was very different. The scarcity of money was intense, and serious
murmuring had arises when the President "squandered" his ready money