I shall have one of those cards attached to the door of my private office at once. I tell you, Belinda, our son will be a great man one of these days." Mr. Joslyn strutted up and down the hall, almost bursting with the pride he took in his young son.
Mrs. Joslyn sighed. She knew protests were useless so long as her husband encouraged the boy. It was better at this point to simply be strong and say nothing more.
Rob also knew his mother's protests would be of no use. He continued to delight in electrical processes of all sorts. And he was more than happy to use 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 inside that place he had rigged up 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 busily pumped water from the dishpan into the copper skillet.
