Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

Billy Bunter’s Benefit
By Frank Richards
at least affect to do so: which, added to the steepness of the hill, made
Potter and Greene wonder, not for the first time, whether it was a
mistake to cultivate Coker as a pal.
On the other hand, they were going up to Redclyffe for the most
expensive seats at the Arcade, to be followed by one of Coker’s
magnificent feeds. Coker undoubtedly had his good points. He had lots of
money, and chucked it right and left. If Coker could stand expensive
seats at the cinema, and unlimited refreshments afterwards, Potter and
Green felt that they could stand Coker. And they did. Coming down the
hill, as Coker and Co. pedalled up,
was a Remove junior—whose appearance displeased Coker.
Herbert Vernon-Smith did not exactly look a “dirty little tick,” as Coker
described him. But he did look untidy and grubby and generally
dilapidated. Had Mr. Quelch, his form-master, seen him abroad in such a
state, he would certainly have wanted to know the reason why. But it did
not concern Coker of the Fifth in the very least. Coker, however, had a
wonderful capacity for concerning himself about matters that did not
concern him.
“I wonder what Greyfriars is coming to!” said Coker. “Look at him!”
Vernon-Smith glanced at the three cyclists coming up the hill, and
scowled. Smithy was not in a good temper. He had aches and pains without
number, and a nasty consciousness that he had made a fool of himself. He
knew that he looked dusty, rumpled, untidy, damaged, and dilapidated. He
had sat by the roadside nearly half-an-hour in the hot sun, hoping for a
lift for himself and bike. No such lift had accrued: and at last the
Bounder had made up his mind to leave the wrecked machine on the grass
verge by the road, walk down to Courtfield, and get the cycle-shop people
to collect it for repairs. A walk of two or three miles in his present
condition was not enjoyable: and the stares of the Fifth-form men, and
the lofty disgust in Coker’s rugged countenance, did not add to his
comfort. So he gave them a black scowl as they drew nearer.
“Look at him!” requested Coker. “Disgraceful little blackguard! Looks as if
he’s been rolling in the dust, and hasn’t had a wash for weeks! Quelch
ought to look after these young ruffians in the Remove.”
“Might suggest it to him!” murmured Potter, with a wink at Greene. But
Greene, bending wearily over his handle-bars, did not see the wink, or grin
at the sarcasm. Coker, of course, did not realise that Potter was indulging
in sarcasm at all.
“I couldn’t very well, Potter,” answered Coker. “A beak wouldn’t like it!
Besides,” added Coker, disparagingly, “what’s the good of talking sense to
a school-master? Dense lot! Look at Prout!”
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