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—” [[248]]
“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.
“Let him turn his nose away!”
“Down with Padre Irene’s nose,” cried several at once.