Hetty was a good waitress, who had been with the family for several years, and she knew just what Mr. Mason liked, and how he liked to have things done about the house; but she was an ignorant silly girl, and not at all a good companion for Marjorie.
Jack was two years older than his sister. He was sixteen, and preparing for college, and his father thought best that he should not change schools. So he had to make an early start every day, and very rarely came back until dinner-time, and then had to study hard all the evening.
Now and then, when he did come home early on a rainy day, Marjorie and he would have great fun, like the old times; so at last she came to wish for bad weather with as much eagerness as she had used to look for sunshine.
Since her mother's death her father had seemed very much preoccupied and indifferent to what she and Jack did. And, as time went on, he was more and more away from home. He changed the dinner hour from six until seven, and was often late at that. Then right afterward he would generally go out, and not come back until after Jack and Marjorie were in bed.
Marjorie especially missed her father's presence and companionship; and one "dull, sunshiny afternoon," as Marjorie called it, in default of any other sympathizer, she confided her grief to Hetty, who seemed in a pleasanter mood than usual.
"I wonder what it is that takes so much of father's time?" she said.
"Oh, it's coortin' he is, av coorse, ye may belave," replied Hetty.
"Oh no, you don't mean—that, do you?" exclaimed Marjorie.
"Sure 'n' why not?" said Hetty, with a smirk. "Widowers generally does. But I can tell you that I for wan will not shtay wan minute, no, nor wan sicond, av he brings a new mistress into this house!"