Danny would be about fifteen years of age--a lump of a lad, and therefore out of the leading-strings of his nurse, Kerry Quayle--when he concocted a most audacious scheme, whereof Kerry was the chief subject and victim. This had nothing less for its aim and object than to get Kerry married to Hommy-beg--the blind woman to the deaf man. Now, Hommy was a gaunt, raw-boned man, dressed in a rough blue jacket and a short gray petticoat. His full and proper name was now quite lost. He was known as Hommy-beg, sometimes as Hommy-beg-Bill, a name which at once embodied a playful allusion to his great physique, and a certain genealogical record in showing that he was little Tom, the son of Bill. Though scarcely short of stone-deaf, he was musical. He played two instruments, the fiddle and the voice. The former squeaked like a rasp, and the latter thundered like a fog-horn. Away to Ballamona Master Danny went, and found Hommy-beg thinning a bed of peonies. "Aw, man, the terrible fond she is of the like o' that swate flower," said the young rogue, who spoke the homespun to the life. "Aw, dear, the way she smells at them when you bring them up for the Bishop!" "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. "Aw, the good-looking he is, astonishing! My gough! You should see him in his Sunday hat, or maybe with a frill on his shirt, and smiling, and all to that! Terrible dacent sort is Hommy-beg!" "What, the loblolly-boy in the petticoat?" "Aw, but the tender-hearted he is for all, and, bless me, Kerry woman, the swate he is on you!" "What, the ould red-head that comes singing, as the saying is?" "Aw, no, woman, but as black as the raven, and the way he looks sorrowful-like when he comes beside of you. You wouldn't believe it! And, bless me, the rael bad he is to come up to the Coort and take a cup of tay with you, and the like o' that." "Do you raely mane it, Danny, my chree?"