He had her muff in his hand, and as he reached her he caught at her shoulder and shook her roughly. "Milly—I thought—I thought—" He stammered with agitation. "I found this muff, and I thought it was yours; and Neddy's gone, too, and I thought—both of you—"
"Neddy gone?" she repeated, dully.
She stood still on the ice, trying to get her wits together.
"He's disappeared. He isn't in town. He went out early this morning. To skate, I suppose. Nora saw him from her window; at about six, she says. And this open water"—she felt him quiver at her side—"and then this muff—"
"No!" she said. "I—I made a mistake." She did not take in the words about Ned.
"But where is he? Nobody's seen him. I suppose I'm a fool, but I'm uneasy. I came to meet you because I thought you might know. But when I saw this muff—it is yours, Milly, isn't it?—I got into a panic about you, too."
"Why," she said—"it's mine; yes. I—I left it—I suppose. Neddy wasn't with me. Did you think he was with me? I don't understand," she ended, bewildered.
"He hasn't been at home all day," her husband said, "nor in town, either." And then he repeated the story, while she looked at him, slow understanding dawning in her eyes.
"Neddy—gone! Where?"
"But that's what I don't know," the father said.