"Then there'll sure be a parlour. And where there's a parlour there's a fireplace—see? A large official cavern with never any fire in it. And I come in on the drinking-fountains at each side of the main entrance: bronze dolphins twisted upside down and spouting water into marble basins."
"They're included too, are they?"
"Well, I suggested them. Don't those old coupon-clippers ever get thirsty? Sure they do. Well, can't I wet their whistles for them? I guess yes—and I told 'em so."
"Them? Whom?"
"The directors."
"You've seen them?"
"I attended a meeting of the board, as I suppose I might as well tell you," said Little O'Grady grandly.
"You did, eh?" returned Dill, balanced between reprobation of Little
O'Grady's push and admiration for his nerve.
"Yep. I spoke a good word for myself. And one for the others—Gowan and
Giles and you and Stalinski and——"
"Um," said Dill, none too well pleased. The last thing he desired was co-operation from the Rabbit-Hutch and association with the band of erratic, happy-go-lucky Bohemians that peopled it. "You're laying out a good deal of work for yourself," he remarked coldly, dismissing the Bunnies.