"It was back in the fall of eighteen seventy-nine," said the stranger at last, softly. "Back in the village of
Menlo Park, New Jersey. I was a boy of nine. A young man we all thought was a wizard had set up a laboratory
next door to my home, and there were flashes and crashes inside, and all sorts of scary goings on. The
neighborhood children were warned to keep away, not to make any noise that would bother the wizard.
"I didn't get to know Edison right off, but his dog Sparky and I got to be steady pals. A dog a whole lot like
yours, Sparky was, and we used to wrestle all over the neighborhood. Yes, sir, your dog is the image of Sparky."
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