"But you won't have any money left!" she cried.
"Then I won't tell you about the third thing."
She said solemnly, "You ought to have no secrets from me."
"Have you none from me?"
"Not one. Except—but that's so silly—except the tinker."
"Tell me that one."
She obeyed him, and she frowned a little, because she could not understand why the thing should need telling. "And then I went on to the moor, and George Halkett ran after me, and I thought it was the tinker."
"Why," Zebedee asked, "did he run after you?"
"He must have thought I was some one else."
"Why does he run after anybody?"