Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

Billy Bunter’s Benefit
By Frank Richards
“Oh!” said Potter and Greene.
They looked serious at that! A “book” was an awful imposition. Fellows had
lines—sometimes a lot of lines— but a whole book was a rare and quite
overwhelming thing. A fellow who was given a “book” could count on his
leisure hours being washed out for a long time to come.
“A book!’ repeated Coker. “That’s what Prout calls justice! A Fifth-form
man calls a mob of fags to order— which really the prefects ought to be
doing—and his beak makes out that he’s to blame, and gives him a book! I
don’t know that I shall have any time to coach you fellows in acting—I’m
not sure I shall be able to find time for the Stage Club at all. I’ve got to
write out the first book of the Aeneid. All because those fags were
cheeky, and because my pals let me down.”
Potter and Greene looked as sad and sympathetic as they could. Indeed
they could feel for a fellow who had to write out the first book of the
Aeneid, from “Arma virumque cano” to “fluctibus aestas”—a total of seven
hundred and fifty-six lines. It was enough to make a fellow’s head ache to
think of it! Still, it was getting past tea-time, and they wanted their tea.
If there was going to be nothing in Coker’s study, they had to go down to
hall. So although they were sympathetic, they did want to get from the
subject of Coker’s woes to that of tea.
“Tough luck, old man,” murmured Potter.
“It’s the limit,” said Greene.
“You’d better make a start on it, after tea,” suggested Potter: rather a
neat way of reminding Coker of tea.
“Yes, let’s get tea out of the way, and make a start,” agreed Greene,
taking his cue from Potter.
“You’ve landed me with this,” said Coker. “If you’d backed me up, as I
distinctly told you to do, we should have mopped up that mob of fags and
given them a jolly good lesson. Now they’re carrying on just as if I hadn’t
told them to chuck it. Not, of course, that I’m going to let them do
‘Hamlet.’”
“Not!” murmured Potter.
They gazed at Coker. Even yet, it seemed, the great Horace had not
collected all the trouble he wanted. He was going to hunt for more!
“Certainly not,” said Coker. “I’m not likely to change my mind, simply
because the fags are cheeky, and Prout’s an old ass. But, as I said, you’ve
landed me in this, by letting me down. I’m done with you.”
“My dear chap—,” protested Potter.
“Coker, old man—,” murmured Greene.
They could not help looking dismayed. This meant that there was not only
going to be no tea in Coker’s study that day. It boded ill for days to come.
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