"Hoo d'ye mak' that oot?" says I. "Michty me, man, if the trams were nae bigger gin the cairt, hoo wud Donal' get in atween them? The thing's ridic'lous."
"You're no' seein't," says Sandy. "Tak' the back door o' the cairt, for instance. The back door's only a bit o' the cairt, isn't? Weel, than, shurely the cairt's bigger than the back door."
"You're haiverin' perfeck buff," says I. "The back door's juist exakly the same size as the cairt, or you wud never get it fessend on. Ony bairn kens that, gomitry or no gomitry."
"Bliss my hert, Bawbie," says Sandy, gettin' akinda peppery, "shurely to peace a scone's bigger than a bit o' a scone."
"There's nae doot aboot that," says I, "if the scone that you have a bit o' is nae bigger gin the scone that's bigger gin the bit o' the ither ane."
"That's teen for grantit, of coorse," says Sandy.
"But I dinna see hoo that mak's ony difference to the back door o' the cairt," says I, I says.
Sandy took a gey wild-like bite at his row, an gae twa-three o' his chuck-chucks, an' then he says, "Man, Bawbie, you weemin fowk have nae rizzenin' faculty. Naebody wi' ony logic wud need twa looks to see brawly that onything's bigger than a bit o't, or, as the book says, that the whole's greater than its pairt. That's self-evident. Tak' the Toon Cooncil, say. It's shurely bigger than ony ane o' the Cooncillers."
"Is't na?" I brook in gey quick. "Juist you speer at Bailie Thingymabob, an' you'll shune find oot whuther he thinks the Toon Cooncil or him the biggest o' the twa."
"Auch, Bawbie; you're no wirth argeyin' wi'," says Sandy. "You've aye sic a desjeskit wey o' lookin' at things. What's the sense o' bletherin' aboot Bailie Thingymabob? Preserve me! if he's only an echteent pairt o' the Toon Cooncil, shurely common sense 'ill lat you see that the Toon Cooncil's bigger than he is. Ony bit loonie in the tower-penny cud see that in a blink."