Mr Palmer, senior, sometimes recoiled into intolerance and
orthodoxy, and bewildered his son who, to use one of his own phrases,
'hardly knew where his father was.' Partly the reaction was due to
the oscillation which accompanies serious and independent thought,
but mainly it was caused by Mr Palmer's discontent with Frank's
appropriation of a sentiment or doctrine of which he was not the
lawful owner. Frank, however, was so hearty, so affectionate, and so
cheerful, that it was impossible not to love him dearly.
In his visits to Fenmarket, Frank had often noticed Madge, for the
'Crown and Sceptre' was his headquarters, and Madge was well enough
aware that she had been noticed. He had inquired casually who it was
who lived next door, and when the waiter told him the name, and that
Mr Hopgood was formerly the bank manager, Frank remembered that he
had often heard his father speak of a Mr Hopgood, a clerk in a bank
in London, as one of his best friends. He did not fail to ask his
father about this friend, and to obtain an introduction to the widow.
He had now brought it to Fenmarket, and within half an hour after he
had alighted, he had presented it.
Mrs Hopgood, of course, recollected Mr Palmer perfectly, and the
welcome to Frank was naturally very warm. It was delightful to
connect earlier and happier days with the present, and she was proud
in the possession of a relationship which had lasted so long. Clara
and Madge, too, were both excited and pleased. To say nothing of
Frank's appearance, of his unsnobbish, deferential behaviour which
showed that he understood who they were and that the little house
made no difference to him, the girls and the mother could not resist
a side glance at Fenmarket and the indulgence of a secret
satisfaction that it would soon hear that the son of Mr Palmer, so
well known in every town round about, was on intimate terms with
them.
Madge was particularly gay that evening. The presence of sympathetic
people was always a powerful stimulus to her, and she was often
astonished at the witty things and even the wise things she said in
such company, although, when she was alone, so few things wise or
witty occurred to her. Like all persons who, in conversation, do not
so much express the results of previous conviction obtained in
silence as the inspiration of the moment, Madge dazzled everybody by
a brilliancy which would have been impossible if she had communicated
that which had been slowly acquired, but what she left with those who
listened to her, did not always seem, on reflection, to be so much as
it appeared to be while she was talking. Still she was very
charming, and it must be confessed that sometimes her spontaneity was
truer than the limitations of speech more carefully weighed.