are some enigmas to which he alone has the key: the boy who
disappeared, the nun--"

"Gentlemen, the _pansit lang-lang_ is the soup _par excellence_!" cried
Makaraig. "As you will observe, Sandoval, it is composed of vermicelli,
crabs or shrimps, egg paste, scraps of chicken, and I don't know
what else. As first-fruits, let us offer the bones to Don Custodio,
to see if he will project something with them."

A burst of merry laughter greeted this sally.

"If he should learn--"

"He'd come a-running!" concluded Sandoval. "This is excellent
soup--what is it called?"

"_Pansit lang-lang_, that is, Chinese _pansit_, to distinguish it
from that which is peculiar to this country."

"Bah! That's a hard name to remember. In honor of Don Custodio,
I christen it the _soup project_!"

"Gentlemen," said Makaraig, who had prepared the menu, "there are
three courses yet. Chinese stew made of pork--"

"Which should be dedicated to Padre Irene."

"Get out! Padre Irene doesn't eat pork, unless he turns his nose away,"
whispered a young man from Iloilo to his neighbor.