He piled everything neatly in a corner of the cellar and turned to stare at the blank stone wall. That was where the pegboard would go on which he would hang his hand tools. In front of it would be his workbench.

The old nightmare which had caused him so many wakeful hours came charging in on him once more, only this time he couldn't pacify it with a sleeping pill and send it away. How in the world did one attach a pegboard to a stone wall? How did one attach anything to a stone wall, for that matter? After the pegboard there would be the paneling. He sat down on an old box and focused on the problem. Perhaps one bored holes in the stone with some kind of an electric gadget. But then, when you stuck things into the holes, why didn't they come right out again? It all seemed rather hopeless.

He turned his attention to the workbench. Perhaps that was the first thing to do. A workbench had a heavy top and sturdy legs, but how did you attach sturdy legs to a heavy top so that the whole thing didn't wobble like a newborn calf and ultimately collapse when you leaned on it?

Mr. Mills had done some figuring on a scrap of paper and given him the various kinds of boards and two-by-fours which, properly handled, would, he had assured him, turn into a workbench. They lay on the cellar floor in a disorderly pile. Mr. Crombie poked at it gingerly with his foot. How could anyone know what to do with an assortment like that? Perhaps he had better have someone help him put up the pegboard and build the workbench -- someone who knew what he was about. Then at least he would have a place to hang his tools and something to work on. After that everything should be simpler.