continued to revel in electrical processes of all sorts, using the
house as an experimental station to test the powers of his productions.

It was in his own room, however,--his "workshop"--that he especially
delighted. For not only was it the center of all his numerous "lines"
throughout the house, but he had rigged up therein a wonderful array
of devices for his own amusement. A trolley-car moved around a
circular track and stopped regularly at all stations; an engine and
train of cars moved jerkily up and down a steep grade and through a
tunnel; a windmill was busily pumping water from the dishpan into the
copper skillet; a sawmill was in full operation and a host of
mechanical blacksmiths, scissors-grinders, carpenters, wood-choppers
and millers were connected with a motor which kept them working away
at their trades in awkward but persevering fashion.

The room was crossed and recrossed with wires. They crept up the
walls, lined the floor, made a grille of the ceiling and would catch an
unwary visitor under the chin or above the ankle just when he least
expected it. Yet visitors were forbidden in so crowded a room, and
even his father declined to go farther than the doorway. As for Rob,
he thought he knew all about the wires, and what each one was for; but
they puzzled even him, at times, and he was often perplexed to know
how to utilize them all.

One day when he had locked himself in to avoid interruption while he
planned the electrical illumination of a gorgeous pasteboard palace,
he really became confused over the network of wires. He had a
"switchboard," to be sure, where he could make and break connections
as he chose; but the wires had somehow become mixed, and he could not
tell what combinations to use to throw the power on to his miniature