Page:That Royle Girl (Balmer).pdf/90

 "Now eat something, dearie," her guardian urged and herself buttered a roll for the prisoner.

"I'm fine," Joan protested, feeling her pulse pounding at the stimulation of her excitement and from the strong, clear coffee. "Did I hand him too much?" she inquired of the policewoman, as of a friend.

"Oh, he didn't get it half," Mrs. Hoswick reassured. "You didn't start him none worrying about himself."

"I shouldn't have gone for him," Joan accused herself. "But I guess you're right; he's from the east so he's well protected." And the girl and woman touched hands in an instinct of common opposition to Calvin Clarke.

She was a calm, pleasant and physically powerful woman of middle age, was Mrs. Hoswick, a native of Indiana and a widow. Though friendly, she was watchful and reliable. When the room phone rang, she prevented the girl from answering, but in a moment handed the instrument to Joan Daisy, saying:

"Mr. Clarke will put your father on the wire; you may speak with him to tell him how you are; nothing else."

Dads' voice inquired, solicitously, "Joan, m'dear, how are you?"

"Perfectly well, Dads. I'm in a nice room at a hotel. How's mamma?"

"I'll have you out and home promptly, m'dear," Dads promised with a confident jauntiness which was explained when he added, "I've communicated with Hoberg—effectively—effectively," Dads emphasized, "and I found him immensely concerned—oh, immensely." Then the connection was cut.

Hoberg! Why did Dads communicate with him? Joan Daisy deplored. Of course he would concern hims self; but she did not want him doing it, even if he proved