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.