ly, leaning
towards her. "He has never mentioned it to me, nor has Aunt Pike."

"He is too good and unselfish to complain," said Lady Kitson coldly.
"You should use your own eyes, and not wait for him to _tell_ you he is
ill. He has not actually told _me_ that he is, but I can see that he
looks overworked and unwell, and certainly not fit to battle with a
houseful of noisy, restless boys and girls."

"Of course we shouldn't be noisy if father was not well," said Kitty,
with quiet dignity. She was feeling intensely uncomfortable on Pamela's
account as well as her father's. Lady Kitson's remarks were not polite
to their guest.

Lady Kitson sat back in her seat and unfolded a paper, as though to
intimate that she had no more to say. Lettice crossed over and sat
beside Kitty, evidently intending to talk to her, but Kitty could not
bring herself to be friendly to her late school-fellow; besides which,
she had Pamela to talk to, and there was this news about her father to
fill her mind.

"He can't be very ill," said Pamela comfortingly, seeing Kitty's quiet
distress. "Your aunt or Betty would have said something to you about
it. While I am with you I can take the children out all day long if you
like, so that you can keep the house quiet, and we won't be any trouble.
But of course you must send me home if it is not convenient for me to
stay."

"But it will be," cried Kitty, trying to throw off her fears, and she
crossed over and sat by Pamela.

When, though, they presently stopped at Gorlay Station, all her troubles
vanished, for the time at any rate, for there on the platform stood her
father, and Betty, and Tony, all apparently as well and jolly as could
be, while old Prue and the carriage waited in the road outside.

"Father is here! Father is here to meet us and drive us home!" she
cried joyfully, and, forgetting Pamela and Lady Kitson, and all the rugs
and bags and everything, she was out on the platform and in his arms
almost before the train had come to a stand-still.

Dan waited, and with well-feigned if not real patience helped out Lady
Kitson and her possessions; then he too flew. "Come along!" he shouted
to Pamela, forgetting his shyness. Pamela, though, with a wistful
little smile on her lips, collected their belongings without much haste,
and followed him, but very slowly.

For a moment she felt herself almost an intruder, but it was only for a
moment; for Dr. Trenire, looking over the heads