"Where is the paper?" demanded Suzette, with a kind of haughty incredulity.
Wade found it in his pocket, where he must have put it instead of giving it back to Adeline in the sleigh. Suzette took it and went with it to one of the windows. She stood reading the account of the accident, while her sister watched her with tremulous eagerness for the help that came from her contemptuous rejection of the calamity.
"How absurd! It isn't father's name, and he couldn't have been on the train. What in the world would he have been going to Montreal for, at this time of year? It's ridiculous!" Suzette flung the paper down, and came back to the other two.
"I felt," said Wade, "that it was extremely improbable—"
"But where," Adeline put in faintly, "could he have been if he wasn't at the Mills?"
"Anywhere in the world except Wellwater Junction," returned Suzette, scornfully. "He may have stopped over at Springfield, or—"
"Yes," Adeline admitted, "that's what Elbridge thought."
"Or he may have gone on to Willoughby Junction. He often goes there."
"That is true," said the other, suffering herself to take heart a little. "And he's been talking of selling his interest in the quarries there; and—"
"He's there, of course," said Suzette with finality. "If he'd been going farther, he'd have telegraphed us. He's always very careful. I'm not in the least alarmed, and I advise you not to be, Adeline. When did you see the paper first?"