"Renny," he questioned, with great distinctness, "was Finch born with a caul?"
The steaming cup of tea halfway to the lips of the master of Jalna was suspended; his eyebrows shot upward in astonishment.
"A caul!" he snapped. "A caul! What the devil—what put that into your head?"
Meg broke in. "I think it is too bad of you, Renny, to swear at Wake! He was only asking a natural question!"
"A natural question! Well, if you call cauls natural, I'll be"
"There you go again!"
"No, I don't."
"Only because I stopped you! Really, you can't speak without swearing!"
Piers asked: "But was he?"
"Was who?"
"Finch. Born with a caul."
"Yes, he was," answered Meg, stroking Wakefield's hair.
"Extraordinary!" said Nicholas, wiping his moustache and staring at Finch. "I had never heard of one in the family."
Meg said: "His mother kept it in a little box, but after she died it disappeared."
Ernest observed: "It is supposed to be a good omen. To bring luck."
Piers laughed. "Aha! Now we've hit it! Good luck! It's the caul that did it!" He laughed into Finch's face. "Why didn't you let us know about it before? We might have been on our guard. Gosh, you're a dirty dog, Finch, to go sneaking around with a caul on your head, rounding up all the ducats in the family!"
Finch pushed back his chair and rose, shaking with rage. "Come outside with me!" he said, chokingly. "Only come outside with me! I'll show you who's a dirty dog—I'll"
"Sit down!" ordered Renny.
