Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

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Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards “You’d rather cut nets, and swot?” sneered Smith. “Yes, I would. So buzz off and leave a fellow to it.” “Well, there’s one thing you might have thought of, if Wibley didn’t,” said Vernon-Smith sharply. “Linley’s here on a scholarship, and things aren’t easy for him, and it means a lot to him to bag a few pounds in a prize. You don’t need the money—and he does. You’re the only man in the Remove with a chance of beating him to it, and you might have stood out.” Harry Wharton coloured uncomfortably. “The prize is open to every fellow in the Remove,” he said. “That’s what it was founded for by that Old Boy. Linley wouldn’t like any fellow to stand out as a favour to him.” “I know that! I’m not suggesting that you go to Linley’s study and tell him you’re doing him a favour,” said the Bounder, sarcastically. “But you needn’t have given your name in. Why couldn’t you leave it to a fellow who needs it, when you don’t?” “It’s not for myself—I tell you it’s for the funds of the R.D.S.” ‘‘Oh, rats!” With that, the Bounder walked out of the study. Harry Wharton was left breathing rather hard. He was, as a matter of fact, a very much more thoughtful and considerate fellow than Smithy. That made Smithy’s reproach all the more discomforting. Now that he thought of it, he realised that he would not have stood in Mark Linley’s way, if he had reflected a little more. That ass, Wibley, had rushed him into it, and there it was—an unlooked-for spot of bother! He laid down his pen, rose from the table, and walked about the study, thinking it over, in a rather worried frame of mind. He was “for it” now. He had given his word, and his word was his bond. He had to go all out to bag that cash prize for the funds of the R.D.S. But the more he thought about it, the less satisfied he felt. There was a step in the passage, and Mark Linley looked in. Wharton coloured as he met the friendly, cheery glance of the junior of whom he was thinking. ‘Coming down to the nets?” asked Mark. “I—I don’t know—.” “Swotting?” Mark smiled. “I hear you’re in for the Old Boy’s Prize. I’ll give you a tussle for it, old scout.” “Oh, you’ll beat me,” said Harry. “I’m not so jolly sure of that—but I’m going to try,” said Mark, laughing. “We’ll hope the best man will win, anyhow. I’m going down for a spot of cricket now. I’ll leave you to put a wet towel round your head, if you’re Page 86 of 161
Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards swotting.” With that, and a cheery nod, Mark passed on down the passage. “Oh. blow!” murmured Harry. His face was clouded and he moved restlessly about the study, with his hands in his pockets, and a wrinkle in his brow. Mark, obviously, had not the faintest idea of wishing any fellow to stand out of the contest on his account. That Somehow made Wharton feel all the more that it was up to him to keep out. But for that ass Wibley—.” “I say, Harry, old chap.” A fat voice squeaked, as a fat face looked into the study. “Oh, buzz off, Bunter,” exclaimed Wharton. He Was feeling worried and troubled, and in no mood for Billy Bunter. “Oh, really, Wharton—.” protested the fat Owl. “Get out, for goodness sake.” “I say, old chap, I’ve got an idea—.” “Take it away and bury it.” “I wish you wouldn’t keep on interrupting a chap, Wharton. You know I’m short of that seven guineas for Parker——.” “Bother Parker, and bother you! Travel!” snapped the exasperated captain of the Remove. “He hasn’t written again yet,” continued Bunter. “But he’s got to be paid. I’m two pounds nine and six short of the amount, old chap.” “Hook it!” “Swotting?” asked Bunter, with a blink at the Latin paper on the table. “Well, I won’t keep you a minute. You fellows are going to do ‘Hamlet’—.” “Blow ‘Hamlet.’” “Do let a fellow speak. What about a benefit performance?” asked Bunter. “A what?” ejaculated Wharton. “A benefit! My benefit!” explained Bunter. “Wha-a-t?” “Charge for admission, see, when you put up the show,” explained Bunter, blinking at him. “That’s the idea—and all takings go to the benefit fund. Of course, nobody wants to see you act—.” “What!” “I mean to say, they couldn’t, could they?” said Bunter. “But they’d come to a benefit performance, to raise the wind to see a chap through. See the idea? When a chap’s really popular, fellows rally round and back him up. I shouldn’t wonder if a benefit performance raised more than the two pounds nine and six. We’d have a spread in the Rag with what was left over’. See?” “You howling ass—.” Page 87 of 161
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