Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

Billy Bunter’s Benefit
By Frank Richards
turning and turning again, was quite puzzling.
Had the Famous Five been aware of what had happened in the Rag that
afternoon, they would have solved the puzzle. But they had left the
school on their bikes before that, and knew nothing of Smithy’s
unexpected action, or the fact that Billy Bunter had succeeded, at last, in
getting rid of that troublesome jigger. So they did not know that the
handsome sum of seven pounds seven shillings was burning a hole in
Bunter’s pocket.
It was rather unfortunate that the bus stop was opposite the bun-shop.
But for that unfortunate circumstance, the fat Owl might have rolled on
to Mr. Parker’s, and all would have been well.
Bunter had left the school with that fixed intention. All he was thinking
of—until he got off the bus—was settling his account with Mr. Parker,
and getting out of his awful scrape.
It was the sight of the bun-shop, and of people sitting at the little tables
eating and drinking, that had put new ideas into Bunter’s fat head, and
unsettled his resolve.
With pounds in his pocket, and unlimited quantities of sticky things to be
had for the same, it was no wonder that Bunter hesitated.
Yet he had struggled with temptation. Twice he had heroically headed for
Parker’s, putting temptation behind him.
But it is well said that he who hesitates is lost. The call of the bun-shop
had proved irresistible.
So there was Bunter, sitting at a table fairly loaded with sticky things,
and scoffing the same at a great rate, regardless of consequences, his
fat face irradiating happy satisfaction.
When Billy Bunter was eating he forgot lesser matters. Mr. Parker, and
Mr. Parker’s little bill, were relegated to the back of his fat mind. For the
moment, Bunter revelled in foodstuffs, and enjoyed life.
Harry Wharton and Co., not being in possession of any such sum as seven
guineas among the whole Co., were content with a ginger-pop and a bun.
Not so Bunter! Perhaps, on the principle that one might as well be hung
for a sheep as a lamb, he gave orders royally.
Jam sponges at the bun-shop, were priced at half-a-crown each. Bunter
travelled through three or four with hardly a pause. Other delectable
things, at equally delectable prices, followed fast. Bunter did not bother
about such commonplace things as twopenny buns. Only the best, it
seemed, was good enough for Bunter. And his appetite for sticky things
was practically unlimited.
The Co., from their table, watched him in wonder.
Only that morning, Bunter had been seeking to borrow a “bob” up and
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