I looked about the garden. The roses had not yet come, so we couldn't very well plant them. I judged that the morning of a warm, sunny day was no time to transplant seedlings. The painting was not yet completed inside, so I could fix up no more of my rooms. The vegetable garden didn't appear to need cultivation. We couldn't paint the trellis, as there was no green paint. "Good gracious!" I exclaimed, "this is the first time I've been at a loss for something to do. It's a terrible sensation." "Couldn't we build a bird bath?" she suggested. "Madam," said I, "you are a genius!" "At the brook?" she added. "No, not the brook. I've a better idea. Up in Stephen Parrish's lovely garden in Cornish I once saw a bird bath which we'll try to duplicate, here on the lawn, so the birds will have the water handy to wash down the grass seed they are eating so fast. Let's see; we'll need bricks, sand, cement, a mason's trowel, a spade, a hoe, a level, a box to mix in, and a box for a frame." I had nearly a whole bag of cement left over from my dab at orchard renovation, and there were plenty of packing-boxes. I selected one which was exactly square, about two feet on each side, and carefully knocked the bottom out. A shallower one did for a mixing-box. Down cellar, where my heater had been installed, was a barrow load of extra bricks which the plumber had left behind--inefficient business but very convenient for me. Sand was easily procured by digging a hole near the brook. "Now," said I, "my plan is to put the bird bath on the east edge of the lawn, halfway between the house and the rose aqueduct, corresponding to the sundial in the centre, and to a white bench which will be placed at the west side when the grape arbour is built." "Approved," laughed Miss Goodwin. We measured off the spot, and I trundled the barrow to a pile of coal ashes behind the barn--where the previous owner had deposited them--and brought back enough to make a frost-proof foundation. After we had packed these into the ground and levelled them off, I mixed a lot of cement, laid it over thick, set the bottomless box frame down upon it, levelled that, and working from the inside, of course, laid the bricks up against the box, with a great deal of cement between them, and built up the four sides. As the girl had no gloves, I would not allow her to handle the cement (for nothing cracks the skin so badly, as I had discovered in my orchard work). But she kept busy mixing with the hoe, and handing me bricks. Some I broke and put in endwise, and I was careful to give all as irregular a setting as possible, till the top was reached. Then, of course, I laid an even line of the best bricks all the way around, and levelled them carefully. We had scarcely got the last brick on when we heard Bert's carryall rattle over the bridge and Bert's voice yelling "Dinner!" "Oh, dear! That cement in the box will harden!" I cried. "Dump it all in."