Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

Billy Bunter’s Benefit
By Frank Richards
down the Remove. Now he was spending money right and left with an
extravagance the wealthy Bounder himself could hardly have equalled.
“Well,” said Bob Cherry. “This beats the band! Bunter was stony this
morning—now he’s blued about a pound in five minutes! I suppose he hasn’t
been holding up a bank!”
“Perhapsfully his esteemed and ridiculous postal-order has come!” grinned
Hurree Jamset Ram Singh.
“Well, wonders will never cease—so perhaps it has!” said Bob. “But it
wouldn’t run to that, Inky.”
The Co. were really feeling a little concerned. Even if Billy Bunter’s
celebrated postal-order, so long expected, had arrived at last, it seemed
improbable that it would stand such a strain as this.
In fact, they could not help thinking that Bunter, carried away by the
inner Bunter as it were, was rather recklessly out-running the constable.
And if a fellow who fed expensively at the Courtfield bun-shop failed to
pay up after the feed, the consequences were likely to be dire.”
“Time we got a move on,” said Harry. And the Famous Five, having settled
their modest bill, went to the bikes stacked against the tree.
Bob Cherry stopped at Bunter’s table. It seemed to him that, if the fat
Owl was exceeding his resources in the Gargantuan feed, a tip in time
might be useful.
“Hallo, hallo, hallo!”
“Ooooh!” Bunter was taking a large bite out of a fat jam-tart. He gave a
jump as that familiar hail fell on his fat ears, and some of the jam went
down the wrong way. “Ooogh! Grooogh!”
“Enjoying life, old fat man?” grinned Bob.
“Urrggh! You silly ass—making a fellow jump!” gurgled Bunter. “Wurrggh.”
“Hadn’t you better go easy, old porpoise?” asked Bob. “You’re running up a
tremendous bill, you know.”
“Wurrrggh!”
“It must be over a quid already. Hadn’t you better count your wealth
before you go any further?”
“Oooooh!”
“A stitch in time saves a cracked pitcher from going longest to the well,
as the English proverb remarks, my esteemed Bunter,” remarked Hurree
Jamset Ram Singh, “and it is no use locking the stable door after too
many cooks have spoiled the broth.”
“Grooogh!”
Billy Bunter coughed, and gurgled, and cleared his fat neck. Then he
turned his spectacles on the Co. with a withering blink.
“You fellows can clear off,” he snorted. “You wouldn’t lend me a bob this
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