“Some,” said Dolly, smiling at the recollection of the feast that failed.
“Pshaw! We’ll show you how. Say we begin now. What you got on hand?”
“Oh, wait, Bert! don’t upset things!” cried Dolly, in dismay, for her brother was ruthlessly rummaging in the cupboard for goodies.
“Unhand me, villain!” and Bert shook off Dolly’s restraining hand. “I seek what I seek!” and with a flourish he brought out a package of chocolate and the sugar bowl. “Fee fi fo fum, I smell the scent of Fudgerum. Go to it, Dollops! See how quick you can turn out a panful!” Bert took out his watch as if to time her. “One, two three! Go!”
Falling into the spirit of the thing, Dolly whisked out a sauce-pan and long-handled spoon, while twice as quickly, Dotty seized a knife and began to shave off the chocolate. Fudge was a thing they could make, with no chance of failure, so the two worked smoothly together, and in an incredibly short time, the delectable compound was cooling, to be cut into squares.
“You’re the right sort of sisters for a chap to have,” said Bob, looking admiringly at the two smiling, flushed faces before him.
“You’re two pretty good brothers,” Dotty flashed back, and Bert remarked. “Cut out the taffy, and look after the fudge.”
So they marked it off in squares and diamonds, and the impatient boys began on it at once.
“Guess we’ll bring home some chaps for the Christmas Vake, hey, Bob?” and Bert nodded at his chum.
“That’s a go. But not many, for this house has all the modern improvements, except size, it seems to me.”