It was along about then that I hears about the bull pup. I'd been wantin' to have one out to Primrose Park--where I goes to prop up the weekend, you know. Pinckney was tellin' me of a friend of his that owns a likely-lookin' litter about two months old, so one Saturday afternoon I starts to hoof it over and size 'em up. Now that was reg'lar, wa'n't it? You wouldn't think a two-eyed man like me could go astray just tryin' to pick out a bull pup, would you? But look what I runs into! I'd gone about four miles from home, and was hittin' up a Daddy Weston clip on the side path, when I sees one of them big bay-windowed bubbles slidin' past like a train of cars. There was a girl on the back seat that looks kind of natural. She sees me, too, shouts to Francois to put on the emergency brake, and begins wavin' her parasol at me to hurry on. It was Sadie Sullivan. "Hurry up, Shorty! Run!" she yells. "There isn't a minute to lose." I gets up on my toes at that, and I hadn't no more'n climbed aboard before the machine was tearin' up the macadam again. "Anybody dyin'," says I, "or does the bargain counter close at five o'clock?" "Aunt Tillie's eloping," says she, "and if we don't head her off she'll marry an old villain who ought to be in jail." "Not Mr. Pinckney's Aunt Tillie, the old girl that owns the big place up near Blenmont?" says I. "That's the one," says Sadie. "Why she's qualified for an old ladies' home," says I. "You don't mean to say she's got kittenish at her age." "There's no age limit to that kind of foolishness," says Sadie, "and this looks like a serious attack. We've got to stop it, though, for I promised Pinckney I'd stand guard until he came back from Newport." I hadn't seen the old girl myself, but I knew her record, and now I got it revised to date. She'd hooked two husbands in her time, but neither of 'em had lasted long. Then she gave it up for a spell and it wa'n't until she was sixty-five that she begins to wear rainbow clothes again, and caper around like one of the squab octet. Lately she'd begun to show signs of wantin' to sit in a shady corner with a man. Pinckney had discouraged a bald-headed minister, warned off an old bachelor, and dropped strong hints to a couple of widowers that took to callin' frequent for afternoon tea. Then a new one had showed up.