“You are right, I daresay. You are more sure about it than I am though.”
“Let us agree where we can,” I said, “first of all; and that will make us able to disagree, where we must, without quarrelling.”
“Good,” he said—“Would you like to see my work shop?”
“Very much, indeed,” I answered, heartily.
“Do you take any pleasure in applied mechanics?”
“I used to do so as a boy. But of course I have little time now for anything of the sort.”
“Ah! of course.”
He pushed a compartment of books. It yielded, and we entered a small closet. In another moment I found myself leaving the floor, and in yet a moment we were on the floor of an upper room.
“What a nice way of getting up-stairs!” I said.
“There is no other way of getting to this room,” answered Mr Stoddart. “I built it myself; and there was no room for stairs. This is my shop. In my library I only read my favourite books. Here I read anything I want to read; write anything I want to write; bind my books; invent machines; and amuse myself generally. Take a chair.”