Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

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Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards And he was very curious indeed now. After third school on Friday, five fellows had gone up to that study. It was bright and sunny in the quad, and most fellows naturally were out of doors after third school. But Harry Wharton had spoken to his friends when they came out of the form-room, and they had all gone up to the study, and shut the door. Something, it seemed to Bunter, was “on.” Whatever might be “on” was no concern of Bunter’s— but Billy Bunter’s interest in what did not concern him was deep and abiding. So there was Bunter, with a fat ear applied to a keyhole, listening-in. Harry Wharton’s voice, in the study, was distinctly audible to the surreptitious fat Owl. He was too late to catch the first words, but he listened with eager inquisitiveness to what followed. “—what you fellows think about it. I never thought, when that ass Wibley rushed me into it. But Smithy said something yesterday, and—and—well, look here, I don’t want to stand in Linley’s light.” “Well, old Marky wouldn’t dream of wanting you to stand out, on his account,” said Bob Cherry. “I know that! But I’ve been thinking it over, and I don’t like it! I don’t mean that I think it’s a sure thing for me—Linley would very likely beat me to it. But—.” “Neck and neck, I fancy,” said Frank Nugent. “The neck-and-neckfulness would be terrific.” “Bother that ass Wibley!” said Johnny Bull. “Well, he’s right that some of us ought to play up, after Mauly and Smithy have shelled out as they have,” said Harry. “But if we can think of some other way, I’d rather take my name out, and stand aside.” “We’ll jolly well think of some other way, then,” said Bob. “I’d like to see old Marky walk off with the Old Boy’s Prize. I know he wants some new books that he won’t ask his people for.” “That does it,” said Harry. “Look here, there’s five of us, and among us we can manage it, one way or another—if you fellows agree.” “Hear, hear!” said Bob. “That’s all right,” said Johnny Bull. “We’ll all play up, and manage it somehow. Twelve bob each would do it.” “It’s agreed then?” asked Harry. “Yes, rather,” said Frank Nugent. “The agreefulness is terrific.” “Then I’ll take my name out, and wash it out,” said the captain of the Remove. “I shan’t be sorry to get out of the swotting, if you come to that. There’s the cricket, you know, though Wibley thinks that doesn’t matter—.” Page 94 of 161
Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards “Wibley’s an ass.” “Wibley’s a born idiot.” “Wibley is a terrific fathead.” Harry Wharton laughed. “Well, if we raise the tin among ourselves somehow, it will be a cert for the R.D.S. funds, and the exam was only a chance, anyhow,” he said. “Wibley won’t have any kick coming. It’s settled, then—I’m out of it. And—.” There was a sudden interruption. The study door flew wide open, and into the doorway rolled a fat figure, yelling. Behind it appeared Herbert Vernon-Smith, dribbling that fat figure into the study. Five fellows jumped and stared round. “What the thump—!” “What the dickens—.” “Yaroooh! Leave off kicking me, you beast! Whooohooop!” roared Billy Bunter, as he rolled on the study carpet. The Bounder looked in, grinning. “Did you fellows know that Bunter had his ear to the keyhole?” he asked. “Eh? Oh! No.” “Well, he had, when I came up, so I thought I’d give you the tip.” “You fat villain—.” “You terrific toad!” “I—I say, you fellows.” Bunter spluttered wildly. “I hadn’t—I wasn’t—I didn’t—wow! I was only stooping to tie up my shoe-lace, and—and——ow!” The Bounder, laughing, went on up the passage. He had come up at a rather unfortunate moment for the inquisitive fat Owl. Bunter, with his ear to the keyhole, had not seen him coming, and was apprised of his arrival only by the landing of a boot on his plump trousers. It was quite a surprise for Bunter, as well as for the Famous Five. He sat up, gasping for breath, and blinking apprehensively at the chums of the Remove through his big spectacles. “You prying fat worm!” roared Johnny Bull. “Oh, really, Bull—.” “Boot him!” Billy Bunter scrambled up in haste, and backed away. “I tell you I wasn’t listening,” he gasped. “Just like that cad Smithy to think a fellow was listening at a keyhole, when he only stooped to pick up a pin. I never heard a word you fellows were saying about the Old Boy’s Prize, or Linley, or anything! Not a syllable. I was simply tying up a pin—I mean picking up a shoe-lace—I—I mean—.” Page 95 of 161
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Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

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