THE DOCTOR
and asked the lad who he was and whence he had come.
The two strangers then sat down at the side of the road, and the lad thus addressed the King:—
'You may not believe it, but I am the original Ptolemy Jenkinson, the only and well-beloved nephew of that great and celebrated doctor, Ebenezer Scrout, whom you now see at my side. When, a trembling orphan, I was thrown upon an unfeeling world, he alone of my numerous uncles, aunts, so-called friends and guardians, undertook to find me a comfortable and even luxurious home, and so to educate me that I might prove worthy of occupying the exalted position for which I am destined.
'Uncle Ebenezer was my mother's brother and, a true Scrout, he inherited all his good qualities from my grandfather, Phelim Scrout, the well-known turf-cutter, from whom, by the way, I inherit most of mine—but of these it does not become me to speak.
'Many people, jealous perhaps of his great fame, have ridiculed my uncle's claim to be a member of this ancient family, but to set this matter for ever at rest, I have here copied a few notes from the Scroutean genealogical tree, preserved in the archives of the family.' Ptolemy Jenkinson here took from his pocket and handed to Bill a sheet of paper upon which the following notes were written in a clear bold hand:—
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