Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

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Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards Bunter rolled out of the study. He looked back into his own, No. 7. But his study-mates, Peter Todd and Tom Dutton, were still out of gates: teaing out, most likely, regardless of a tealess fat Owl at home! He did not trouble to explore the cupboard in No. 7—he had done that earlier. He snorted, and rolled up the passage to No. 12. If Lord Mauleverer were there, he might be happy yet! But Mauly was out, too: and the study cupboard, though unlocked, was empty. “Beast!” groaned Bunter. He paused in the passage to consider his next move. Matters were getting serious. Bunter was beginning to feel like a ship-wrecked seaman in an open boat at sea. To wait till supper was practically impossible. Something—or at least somebody—had to be done. Then he thought of Wibley. Wibley wouldn’t be out— he was too deep in his silly theatricals, Bunter had no doubt. He rolled along to No. 5. It was always easy to pull Wibley’s leg by getting him on stage stuff, and expressing unbounded admiration. Wibley had an artistic temperament, and lapped up flattery like milk. Two or three minutes of soft sawder in No. 5 Study would be worth anything eatable Wibley might happen to have. So Bunter rolled into No. 5, and was relieved to find William Wibley at home. But he did not find William Wibley in his usual good temper. He found him in quite an excited state. Every theatrical manager has his trials and tribulations. Wibley had had more than his share. Deep in his coming production of “Hamlet,” Wibley had not even noticed whether it was fine or rainy that afternoon. But all other members of the cast for “Hamlet” had! “I say, Wib, old chap,” began Bunter, with his most propitiatory grin, “just dropped in to ask how the rehearsal went this afternoon.” Billy Bunter did not, as a matter of fact, care two hoots, or one, how the rehearsal had gone. But this seemed a good gambit. Wibley, instead of rising to the bait, glared at him. That rehearsal was a sore subject with Wibley. Not a man had turned up in the Rag. Wibley, arriving there to superintend, had found himself alone in his glory, so to speak. Since then he had been in a state of smouldering indignation and fury. “You silly ass!” was Wibley’s reply. “Oh, really, Wibley—.” “Oh, scat!” “Didn’t the fellows turn up?” asked Bunter, trying— not very successfully—to repress a fat grin. Page 14 of 161
Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards “Didn’t they?” hooted Wibley. “No! They didn’t! I told them I’d cut the parts if they didn’t! They didn’t all the same.” “Rotten,” said Bunter, sympathetically, “I’d jolly well cut the parts, if I were you, Wibley.” “So I jolly well would: but can I play Hamlet on my own, fathead? If I cut Horatio, and Laertes, and the King, and Ophelia, and the Ghost, and Rosenkrantz, and Guildenstern, and the rest, where’s the play?” hooted Wibley. “I’ve heard of Hamlet with the Prince of Denmark left out—but did you ever hear of Hamlet with only the Prince of Denmark in? What? Think I can do a solo performance as Hamlet? What?” “Well, Smithy says it’s jolly near a solo performance, the way you take all the fat for yourself, old chap,” said Bunter—rather unfortunately. “Smithy’s a silly idiot, and you’re a sillier,” retorted Wibley. “Shut the door after you.” “But, I say—.” “Don’t bother! Get out! Buzz off! Scat!” “But I say, Wib, old chap, I’ve missed my tea—.” “You won’t miss my boot, if you don’t travel,” said Wibley, coming round the table. Bunter decided to travel. The door of No. 5 Study banged after a hungry and disconsolate fat Owl. “Beast!” hooted Bunter, through the keyhole. He rolled on to No. 4 Study, which belonged to Herbert Vernon-Smith and Tom Redwing. It was like unto a land flowing with milk and honey. Smithy was always well-provided, even in time of dearth. Even Coker of the Fifth did not receive more generous supplies from the old folks at home. Billy Bunter’s extensive mouth fairly watered at the thought of what he was likely to discover in Smithy’s study. On the other hand, Smithy was a frightfully bad-tempered beast, as witness the way he had cut up rusty over the incident of the borrowed bike. If Smithy was anywhere in the offing, it was altogether too dangerous—the tuck in No. 4 was as much out of Bunter’s reach, as the tempting viands out of the reach of Tantalus. Bunter, indeed, was experiencing some of the painful feelings of Tantalus as he stood in doubt outside Smithy’s study. Skinner of the Remove came up the passage, and Bunter squeaked to him as he passed: “Seen Smithy about?” “He went out with Wharton’s gang—they haven’t come in yet,” answered Skinner, “Seen Redwing?” “Heard that he’s gone up to Hawkscliff.” Page 15 of 161
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