Five minutes after, when Polly and the man had started for Colorado Springs, Bobbin remained in the same position, watching them until they were out of sight. Then she began eating the neglected bread.
Upon arriving safely at her hotel, Miss O'Neill discovered that the news of her disappearance had been spread abroad by her frightened maid, and that a thorough search was being made for her. For although Polly had been trying to live as quietly as possible in a small, obscure hotel, the fact of her visit was well known to hundreds of people. You see, at this time in her life not only was her name celebrated from one part of the country to the other, but her face was equally familiar.
Through her maid, Marie, Polly was told that a gentleman, whose name she had not learned, had been particularly kind and interested in seeking to find her. So as soon as she rested she had every intention of inquiring his name and thanking him personally. But by late afternoon, when she finally dressed, this was impossible. Evidently the man did not wish to be annoyed by her thanks, for the message brought her was that on hearing of her safety he had suddenly left the village.
However, Polly was able to acquire some actual information about the girl she had seen earlier in the day, for "Bobbin" was apparently a well-known character in the famous Western resort. She was a little stray daughter of the place. Years before, the mother had come to Colorado from some city in the South and had died. Afterwards no one had ever claimed the child.
So the town had taken care of her, sent her to school and tried to teach her to talk. She was perhaps not entirely deaf, although no one exactly understood her case. But the girl was a hopeless little rebel. In no place would she stay unless kept there by iron bars. She seemed to have an unconquerable desire to be always out of doors, and in the brilliant Colorado climate this was nearly always possible. Recently she had been living with some gypsy people, who had established themselves in a temporary shanty at some little distance from the roads usually followed by sightseers. So Miss O'Neill had certainly wandered from the beaten track. Nevertheless she need not make herself unnecessarily unhappy over "Bobbin," for the girl would again be brought back to school as soon as she could be captured.
Yes, her name had been Roberta, an old-fashioned Southern name, and then in some way it had been shortened to Bobbie and now Bobbin. The child had a last name, of course, but the woman who told the story to Miss O'Neill had either never heard the mother's name or else had completely forgotten it.
Late that night in reflecting over her adventure Polly wished that she and Betty Graham could have changed places for a week or so. For Betty would certainly do something for the unfortunate Bobbin to make life happier for her, as she had a kind of genius for looking after people. Her Camp Fire training had taught her a beautiful sympathy and understanding. But Betty must have been made that way in the beginning, Polly concluded with a sigh and a smile. She had no such gift herself. The girl's story, fragmentary as it was, interested her, but there could be no possible point in undertaking to interfere with the child's future.
Nevertheless, try as she might, all night it was impossible for the famous actress to get the half tragic, half stupid figure of Bobbin out of her vision.