He liked him for it.

He was not afraid.
The people round him changed as unaccountably as on that first night at Doctor Blimber's--except Florence; Florence never changed--and what had been Sir Parker Peps, was now his father, sitting with his head upon his hand.

Old Mrs Pipchin dozing in an easy chair, often changed to Miss Tox, or his aunt; and Paul was quite content to shut his eyes again, and see what happened next, without emotion.

But this figure with its head upon its hand returned so often, and remained so long, and sat so still and solemn, never speaking, never being spoken to, and rarely lifting up its face, that Paul began to wonder languidly, if it were real; and in the night-time saw it sitting there, with fear.
'Floy!' he said.

'What is that ?' 'Where, dearest ?' 'There! at the bottom of the bed.' 'There's nothing there, except Papa!' The figure lifted up its head, and rose, and coming to the bedside, said: 'My own boy! Don't you know me ?' Paul looked it in the face, and thought, was this his father?
But the face so altered to his thinking, thrilled while he gazed, as if it were in pain; and before he could reach out both his hands to take it between them, and draw it towards him, the figure turned away quickly from the little bed, and went out at the door.
Paul looked at Florence with a fluttering heart, but he knew what she was going to say, and stopped her with his face against her lips.