A sawmill operated with full steam. And a host of mechanical blacksmiths, carpenters, wood-choppers, and other workmen were connected with a motor which kept them working away at their trades in awkward but unstoppable fashion.
The room was crossed and recrossed with wires. They crept up the walls, lined the floor, made a mesh 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. Even Rob's father refused to go farther than the doorway. As for Rob, he thought he knew all about the wires, and what each one was for. But sometimes they puzzled even him. And he often wondered how to work them all.
One day he locked himself in his room to avoid interruption. He was planning the electrical lighting of a gorgeous pasteboard palace. But 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. Somehow, though, the wires had become mixed, and he could not tell which combinations to use to throw the power on to his miniature electric lights.
