concrete foot gives a good solid foundation, and it helps to repel the frost if that should get into the ground so deep. Do you see the planks the men are setting up twelve inches in from the bank?”

The girls nodded.

“They are making a fence all around the cellar you see; that is to keep the concrete in place when it is poured in, and to give it shape.”

“Is it soft like mud?”

“It is made of one part of cement and two and one-half parts of sand and five parts of gravel. Do you cook?”

They all nodded again.

“When you come to-morrow you’ll see the mixing machine making a stiff batter of those three things—cement and sand and gravel.”

“It must be like putting raisins in a plum pudding,” suggested Ethel Brown. “You have to be careful the stones—the raisins—don’t all sink to the bottom or get bunched together in one place.”

“That’s the idea,” smiled Mr. Anderson. “All those things and water go into one end of the mixer and they come out at the other end concrete in a soft state. Then the men shovel the stuff into the space between the fence and the earth bank, making sure that that widening trench at the foot is chock full and they thump it down and let it ‘set.’”

“I think the cellar will look very ugly with that old plank wall,” decided Dorothy seriously.

“The planks will be taken away.”

“Won’t the concrete show lines where the cracks between the boards were?”

“Do you see those rolls of heavy paper over there? The planks will be lined with that so that the concrete will come against a perfectly smooth surface. When the wood is taken away the men will go over it with a smoothing tool and when they have finished even your particular eye will see nothing to take exception to.”

“O, I knew it would be right somehow,” murmured Dorothy, who was afraid she had hurt Mr. Anderson’s feelings. “I just didn’t know how you managed it.”

“Here’s the way the end of the wall would look if you could slice down right through it,” and the contractor took out his notebook and drew a cross section of the concrete wall showing its widened foot.

The Foundation Wall of Sweetbrier Lodge as Mr. Anderson Drew It

“What’s the floor to be made of?” asked Ethel Blue.

“Concrete—four inches of it,” answered Mr. Anderson promptly. “It will slope a trifle toward this end, and there a drainage pipe will be laid to carry off any water used in washing the floor. Then a layer of cement will go on top of the concrete.”

“What’s that for?”

“To make it all smooth. It will be rounded up at the corners and sides where it joins the walls, so there won’t be any chance for the dust to collect.”

“The cellar in our house is awfully damp,” remarked Ethel Brown. “Sometimes you can see the water dripping down the stones.”

“The walls and the floor of this cellar will be waterproofed with a mixture of rich cement and sand mortar, and I think you’ll find, young ladies, that you’ll have a cellar that’ll be hard to beat.”

The contractor slapped his notebook emphatically and beamed at them so amiably that they felt the greatest confidence in what he proposed.

“Any way, I haven’t anything better to suggest,” said Dorothy dryly.

Mr. Anderson walked off, giving a roar of amusement as he left them.

“Where does the sun rise from here?” asked Ethel Blue as she stood at the spot where was to be the front of the house, and gazed about her. “Does the house face directly south?”

“No, it faces just half way between south and west. The corners of the house point to north, south, east and west. Mother said that if the front was due south the back would be due north and she didn’t want a whole side of her house facing north.”

“It does have a chilly sound,” shivered Ethel Brown.

“With a point stretching toward the north the rooms that have a northern exposure will also have the morning sun and the afternoon sun.”

“I know Aunt Louise will have her dining room where the morning sun will shine in.”

“Yes, ma’am,” returned Dorothy emphatically. “It makes you feel better all day if you eat your breakfast in the sunshine. By this plan of Mother’s every room in the house will have direct sunshine at some part of the day.”

“It’s great,” approved Ethel Blue. “Can’t we ask Mr. Anderson about making a bird’s bath out of cement?” she inquired. “Ethel Brown and I saw a beauty at Mrs. Schermerhorn’s and perhaps he’d let us have some of the concrete to-morrow when the men are mixing it, and we can try to make one.”

The girls raced over to the spot where the contractor was just about to get into his Ford, and stopped him.

“Would you mind letting us have a little concrete to-morrow to make a bird’s bath with?” begged Dorothy breathlessly.

“A bird’s bath?” repeated Mr. Anderson. “How are you going to make it?”

“Couldn’t we put some concrete in a pan and squeeze another pan down on to it and let it harden?”

“Why, yes, something like that,” returned Mr. Anderson slowly.

“Do you want to make it yourselves?”

“Yes, indeed,” all three girls cried in chorus.

He smiled at their enthusiasm and offered a suggestion.

“I suppose you want the bird’s bath for your garden, Miss Dorothy;—why don’t you make a little pool for the garden?”

“Oh, could we?”

“If you could get a tub and lay down a flooring of concrete and then put in another tub enough smaller so that there would be a space between the walls, then you could fill the space with concrete. When it set, you could take out the inner tub after two or three days and turn the concrete out of the outer tub and there you’d have a concrete tub that you could move about.”

“That sounds great,” beamed Dorothy, “but wouldn’t it be awfully heavy?”

“Here’s a better way, then. If you can make up your mind exactly where you want to have it in your garden you can have a hole dug, lay down your floor of concrete and put your small tub on it.”

“I see—then you fill the space between the tub and the earth with concrete.”

“Precisely; thump it down hard and let it stand untouched for a while. Then take away your tub, and there you are again.”

“You can’t make the concrete floor and leave it, can you?”

“No, indeed. You must have everything ready to do the whole thing at once. Put in your tub which is to be your mold, while the floor is still plastic—”

“Eh?” inquired Ethel Brown.

“Soft enough to mold; and then pour in the walls right off quick. You can’t fool round when you’re working with concrete.”

“How can we keep the water fresh in the tub?” asked Ethel Blue of Dorothy.

Dorothy paused, not knowing what to say.

“It would be fun to keep gold fish in it,” she said, “but they would have to have fresh water, wouldn’t they?” She turned appealingly to Mr. Anderson.

“That’s not hard to manage,” he said. “You can put a bit of broomstick between the earth wall and the outer wall of your tub-mold and pour the concrete around it. When the concrete has hardened you pull out the stick and there is a hole. Then you can have a drain dug that will tap that hole on the outside and carry off the water through a few lengths of drain