Finally, Mr. Van der Pant adopted the irregular course of asking every
Belgian he met if they had seen any one from his district in Antwerp, if
they had heard of the name of "Van der Pant," if they had encountered
So-and-so or So-and-so. And by obstinacy and good fortune he really got
on to the track of Madame Van der Pant; she had been carried off into
Kent, and a day later the Dower House was the scene of a happy reunion.
Madame was a slender lady, dressed well and plainly, with a Belgian
common sense and a Catholic reserve, and André was like a child of wax,
delicate and charming and unsubstantial. It seemed incredible that he
could ever grow into anything so buoyant and incessant as his father.
The Britling boys had to be warned not to damage him. A sitting-room was
handed over to the Belgians for their private use, and for a time the
two families settled into the Dower House side by side. Anglo-French
became the table language of the household. It hampered Mr. Britling
very considerably. And both families set themselves to much unrecorded
observation, much unspoken mutual criticism, and the exercise of great
patience. It was tiresome for the English to be tied to a language that
crippled all spontaneous talk; these linguistic gymnastics were fun to
begin with, but soon they became very troublesome; and the Belgians
suspected sensibilities in their hosts and a vast unwritten code of
etiquette that did not exist; at first they were always waiting, as it
were, to be invited or told or included; they seemed always
deferentially backing out from intrusions. Moreover, they would not at
first reveal what food they liked or what they didn't like, or whether
they wanted more or less.... But these difficulties were soon smoothed
away, they Anglicised quickly and cleverly. André grew bold and
cheerful, and lost his first distrust of his rather older English
playmates. Every day at lunch he produced a new, carefully prepared
piece of English, though for some time he retained a marked preference