"Aw was thinkin' o' the tattie-digger," he said slowly; "it seems an awfu' roondaboot wye o' liftin' tatties. Could we no invent a digger that wud hoal the tatties and gaither them at the same time?"
"Laziness is the mother of invention," I remarked.
"But ... cud a machine no be invented?" he asked.
"You could have a sort o' basket," he went on, "that ceppit a' the tatties as they were thrown oot."
"Dinna haver!" interjected Janet, "it wud cep a' the stanes at the same time."
"If spuds were made o' steel," said Jim, "ye cud draw them oot wi' a magnet."
"And if the sky fell you would catch larks," said I.
"If the sea dried up!" said Ellen, and Jim instantly forgot his patent tattie-digger.
"Crivens! What a fine essay that wud mak! Why did ye no gie us that for an essay?"
"Take it on now," I suggested, but he ignored the suggestion.