ap and thresh it; if it doesn't,
they mow it for hay--and some of 'em don't have the brains to do that in
time. Now, I was looking at that bit of flat you cleared, and it struck
me that it wouldn't be a half bad idea to get a bag of seed-potatoes,
and have the land ploughed--old Corny George would do it cheap--and
get them put in at once. Potatoes have been dear all round for the last
couple of years.'

I told her she was talking nonsense, that the ground was no good for
potatoes, and the whole district was too dry. 'Everybody I know has
tried it, one time or another, and made nothing of it,' I said.

'All the more reason why you should try it, Joe,' said Mary. 'Just try
one crop. It might rain for weeks, and then you'll be sorry you didn't
take my advice.'

'But I tell you the ground is not potato-ground,' I said.

'How do you know? You haven't sown any there yet.'

'But I've turned up the surface and looked at it. It's not rich enough,
and too dry, I tell you. You need swampy, boggy ground for potatoes. Do
you think I don't know land when I see it?'

'But you haven't TRIED to grow potatoes there yet, Joe. How do you
know----'

I didn't listen to any more. Mary was obstinate when she got an idea
into her head. It was no use arguing with her. All the time I'd be
talking she'd just knit her forehead and go on thinking straight ahead,
on the track she'd started,--just as if I wasn't there,--and it used to
make me mad. She'd keep driving at me till I took her advice or lost my
temper,--I did both at the same time, mostly.

I took my pipe and went out to smoke and cool down.

A couple of days after the potato breeze, I started with the team down
to Cudgeegong for a load of fencing-wire I had to bring out; and after
I'd kissed Mary good-bye, she said--

'Look here, Joe, if you bring out a bag of seed-potatoes, James and I
will slice them, and old Corny George down the creek would bring his
plough up in the dray and plough the ground for very little. We could
put the potatoes in ourselves if the ground were only ploughed.'

I thought she'd forgotten all about it. There was no time to argue--I'd
be sure to lose my temper, and then I'd either have to waste an hour
comforting Mary or go off in a 'huff', as the women call it, and be
miserable for the trip. So I said I'd see about it. She gave me another
hug and a kiss. 'Don't forget, Joe,' she said as I started. 'Think it
over on the road.' I reckon she had the best