If the girls had looked at each other they would have laughed so neither glanced at the other. Both of them had expected dire results for mussing Wong’s kitchen, but instead he wanted them to teach him to make fudge.
Gale, inwardly shaking with mirth, sat on the table and watched while Val instructed the Chinaman. Loo Wong might be adept at making flapjacks and other western specialties, but when it came to candy he wasn’t so artful. He insisted on doing things wrong and Val was becoming exasperated. But finally it was done, and set out to cool. Loo Wong, the grin of a delighted child on his face, hands hidden in voluptuous sleeves, bowed low and went out to the bunkhouse to start supper.
“I wouldn’t have missed that for anything,” Gale declared with a hearty laugh. “When he first came in I expected no less than murder. Instead----”
“We better wash the dishes,” Val declared. “He might take it into his head to come back. It was funny, wasn’t it?” she murmured laughingly. “He looked so serious all the time, too. And you,” she said, “you wouldn’t help me explain it to him.”
Gale laughed. “He asked you. Besides, I was enjoying myself,” she added.
“There!” Val sighed when the dishes were clean and tucked away in their proper places. “Now everything is just as we found it.”
“I’m going back to my magazine,” Gale declared. “I wonder when the girls will get back?”
Above the music on the radio a knock sounded.
“Maybe Loo Wong has returned,” Val said with a laugh, jumping up and going to the kitchen.