"What, ould Kerry? Smelling, is it? And never a whiff of a smell at the breed o' them!"
"Och, no, it's not the flowers, it's the man—the man, Hommy."
"That'll do, that'll do. And blind, too! Well, well."
"But the swate temper that's at her, Hommy! And the coaxing and coaxing of her! And, man alive, the fond she is of you! A fine sort of a man anyways, and A rael good voice at him. Aw, extraordinary, extraordinary."
"D'ye raely mane it?"
"Mane it? Aw, well, well, and who but you doesn't know it, Hommy?"
"Astonishing, astonishing!"
"Come up to the Coort and take a cup o' tay with her."
Hommy-beg scratched his head. "Is it rarely true, Danny veg?"
"I'll lave it with you, Hommy," said Danny, and straightway the young rascal went back to Bishop's Court, lighted upon blind Kerry, and entered upon a glowing description of the personal charms of Hommy-beg.