“—An' can see far into a thing, your reverence, becaise I'm long-headed. All longheaded people, sir, is cute, an' do you know why they're cute, sir? No, you don't, but I'll tell you—bekaise they're long-headed. Now, sir, what 'ud you think to turn Roman Catholic awhile till I'd malivogue you in arguin' Scripture?—I want to prove to you, sir, that I'm the boy that understands things.”
“What's your business with me?”
“Will you thry it, sir, and you'll see how I'll sober you to your heart's delight.”
“What brought your husband to me, my good woman?”
“Bhe dha husth; fag a rogarah lumsa.”
“He's comin' to it, plaise your reverence,” said the wife.
“Well, sir, so you see, bein' given to deep ways of thinkin' o' my own, I had many bouts at arguin' Scripthur—as every longheaded man has, of coorse—an' yestherday meetin' wid Brian Broghan, the mealman—him that keeps it up on the poor, sir—he challenged me, but, in three skips of a Scotch Gray, I sacked him cleaner than one of his own meal bags, and dusted him afterwards:—'so,' says he, misther Grattan, see what it is to be long-headed.”
“It's worse,” observed Lucre, “to be long-winded. Come to an end, sir.”
“'Long-headed,' says he, 'an', of coorse you'll be takin' the money,' says Brougham; 'what money?' says I. 'Why, the five guineas,' says he, 'that the Biblemen is givin' to every one that will turn wid them, he happens to be long-headed—but otherwise, not a penny.' So, sir, myself, you see, havin' the intention to come over long afore for fraid yez might think it was for the money I am doin' it. But is there such a thing, sir?”
“Not a penny, and so you may tell your friends.”