“Dhamnu orth a Rosha, go dhe shin dher thu?” said the husband in Irish; for he felt that the wife was more explicit than was necessary. “Never heed her, sir; the crathur, your reverence, is so through other, that she doesn't know what she's sayin', especially spakin' to so honorable a gentleman as your reverence.”
“Then let us hear your version, or rather your conversion.”
“Myself, sir, does be thinkin' a great deal about these docthrines and jinnyologies that people is now all runnin' upon. I can tell a story, sir, at a wake, or an my kailee wid a, neighbor, as well as e'er a man in the five parishes. The people say I'm very long headed all out, and can see far into a thing. They do, indeed, plaise your reverence.”
“Very good.”
“Did you ever hear about one Fin M'Cool who was a great buffer in his day, and how his wife put the trick upon a big bosthoon of a giant that came down from Munster to bother Fin? Did you ever hear that, sir?”
“No; neither do I wish to hear it just now.”
“Nor the song of Beal Derg O'Donnel, sir, nor the 'Fairy River,' nor 'the Life and Adventures of Larry Dorneen's Ass,' plaise your reverence.”
“No—but I wish you would allow your wife to relate your business here.”
“Well, sir, the people say I'm very longheaded, and can see far into a thing—”
“But, my good man, I care not what the people say—tell your story briefly.”