Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

Billy Bunter’s Benefit
By Frank Richards
come in as audience if he likes. What on earth do you mean?”
“He’s up against it,” said Bob.
“Is he?” said Wibley, staring. With his mind full of “Hamlet,” Wibley was
not likely to remember the trials and tribulations of so unimportant a
personage as William George Bunter. “Somebody after him for raiding a
cake? What does Bunter matter?”
“Not much, perhaps,” admitted Bob. “But he’s landed himself in an awful
scrape. He hasn’t paid Parker for that bike—.”
“Eh? Oh! Yes! I remember. Well, now we’re through—.” Wibley moved
towards the door. He did not seem interested in Bunter.
“We’re not through till Bob’s said his piece, fathead,” said Johnny Bull.
“Shut up a minute.”
“Well, what about helping him through?” said Bob. “The fat chump
thought of the idea himself, and told Wharton—a benefit performance—.”
“What?” ejaculated Wibley.
“A benefit for Bunter!” exclaimed Vernon-Smith.
“Bunter’s benefit!” said Johnny Bull, staring. “Rot!”
“The rotfulness is somewhat terrific, my esteemed Bob.”
“It would, mean charging for admission,” said Frank Nugent.
“Which being interpreted means that nobody would come!” said the
Bounder. “And who the thump is Bunter that anybody should bother about
him?”
“Well, he’s nobody in particular,” agreed Bob. “But he’s a born idiot—.”
“Is that why you’re bothering about him?” asked the Bounder,
sarcastically. “A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind—is that it?”
“Oh, don’t be an ass, Smithy! Look here,” said Bob, “you did him a good
turn yourself, if you come to that. You must have lost two or three quids
on that bike you gave him seven guineas for.”
“And I was an ass for my pains. He’s been blowing the tin on tuck instead
of paying Parker.”
“I know! All the same, he’s heading for a fearful row. Parker will go to the
Head if he isn’t paid.”
“Let him!” said Smithy, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Serve him right!”
“Um!” said Bob. “I daresay it would serve the fat ass right—but that isn’t
the point. Give every man his deserts, and who will escape whipping—
Shakespeare.”
“Oh, give Shakespeare a rest! We’re getting enough of him.”
“Well, look here,” said Bob. “Bunter’s for it, if nothing’s done. We could
see him through by making this Bunter’s benefit. Lots of fellows would
play up. We could raise the amount——,”
“And hand it over to Bunter to blow at the tuck-shop?” asked Smithy.
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