When @Rob @Joslyn became interested in electricity, his clear-headed father considered the boy's fancy to be instructive as well as amusing. As a result, he heartily encouraged his son. Rob never lacked batteries, motors, or supplies of any sort that his experiments might require.
He fitted up the little back room in the attic as his workshop. From there a network of wires soon ran throughout the house. Not only had every outside door its electric bell, but every window was fitted with a burglar alarm. In addition, no one could cross the threshold of any interior room without Rob's workshop recording that fact.
The gas was lighted by an electric fob. A chime, connected with an erratic clock in the boy's room, woke the servants at all hours of the night and caused the cook to threaten to quit. A bell rang whenever the postman dropped a letter into the box. There were bells, bells, bells everywhere, ringing at the right time, the wrong time, and all the time. And there were telephones in the different rooms, too, through which Rob could call up the different members of the family just when they did not wish to be disturbed.
His mother and sisters soon came to declare the boy's scientific craze an official nuisance. Still, his father was delighted with all of this. It proved Rob's considerable skill as an electrician. He insisted that Rob be allowed perfect freedom in carrying out his ideas.
"Electricity," said the old gentleman, wisely, "is destined to become the power of the world. The future advance of civilization will be along electrical lines. Our boy may become a great inventor and astonish the world with his wonderful creations."
"And in the meantime," said the mother, despairingly, "we shall all be electrocuted. Or maybe the house will be burned down by crossed wires. Or perhaps we shall be blown into eternity by a chemical explosion!"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed the proud father. "Rob's storage batteries are not powerful enough to electrocute anyone or set the house on fire. Do give the boy a chance, @Belinda."
"And the pranks are so humiliating," continued his mother. "When the minister called yesterday and rang the bell, a big card appeared on the front door. On it was printed the words: 'Busy; Call Again.' Fortunately @Helen saw him and let him in, but when I scolded @Robert for what he had done, he said he was just trying out the sign to see if it would work."
"Exactly! The boy is an inventor already. 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.
