The Sculpins, I think, are a very old family. Titbottom says they date from the deluge. But I thought people of English descent preferred to stop with William the Conqueror, who came from France.
Before going with Minim, I always fortify myself with a glance at the great family Bible, in which Adam, Eve, and the patriarchs, are indifferently well represented.
“Those are the ancestors of the Howards, the Plantagenets, and the Montmorencis,” says Prue, surprising me with her erudition. “Have you any remoter ancestry, Mr. Sculpin?” she asks Minim, who only smiles compassionately upon the dear woman, while I am buttoning my coat.
Then we step along the street, and I am conscious of trembling a little, for I feel as if I were going to court. Suddenly we are standing before the range of portraits.
“This,” says Minim, with unction, “is Sir Solomon Sculpin, the founder of the family.”
“Famous for what?” I ask, respectfully.
“For founding the family,” replies Minim gravely, and I have sometimes thought a little severely.
“This,” he says, pointing to a dame in hoops and diamond stomacher, “this is Lady Sheba Sculpin.”
“Ah! yes. Famous for what?” I inquire.
“For being the wife of Sir Solomon.”