BILLY BUNTER'S Big Top Page 1 of 97 - Friardale

BILLY BUNTER’S Big Top
Bunter noticed that the man looked at him, and wondered for an awful instant
whether he was spotted.
But there was no suspicion in the circus man’s face. No doubt he had noted
that his guv’nor’s voice was a little different from usual. The rest of him was
quite the same as usual.
‘I’ve been wanting to speak to you, sir, if you’ll allow me,’ said the man in a
very civil tone.
‘Oh! Yes!’
‘I never meant to give Mr. Dance no offence, sir!’
‘Oh! Didn’t you?’ gasped Bunter, wondering who Mr. Dance might possibly be.
No doubt someone connected with the circus.
‘No, sir! Mr. Dance is rather a ‘ard man, sir!’
‘Ah! Yes! Quite!’
‘If you’d ask ‘im to look over it, sir, I’d take it kindly.’
‘Oh!’
‘‘Tain’t that I can’t get another job, sir,’ said the man. ‘But I don’t like leaving
you, guv’nor. That’s what it is! There ain’t a man in the circus willing to leave a
guv’nor like you, sir!’
Bunter grinned.
Evidently Mr. Dance was someone in authority in the circus, and he had given
this chap the sack. And this chap knew what was Mr. Whiffles’ little weakness
and was flattering him—as he supposed—to get the order of the sack
rescinded.
That grin on the fat face encouraged the circus man. He did not know its
cause.
‘P’raps you’ll kindly ask Mr. Dance to look over it, sir,’ said the man. ‘I’d take it
very kindly, guv’nor.’
‘Certainly!’ said Bunter. ‘I’ll ask him—I mean, I’ll tell him. That’s all right!’
‘Thank you kindly, sir! There ain’t a gentleman like you in the business, sir, in
the ‘ole kingdom!’ said the circus man. ‘It’s a pleasure to work for you, sir, if
you don’t mind my saying so, guv’nor!’
‘Not at all,’ said Bunter. He was quite confident now, and his manner was
genial and patronising. Bunter liked civility and flattery, even if they were
intended for someone else. ‘I’ll see to it! Rely on me! Let’s see, what’s your
name, my man?’
The man blinked at him.
‘You’ve forgot my name, guv’nor?’ he ejaculated involuntarily. Bunter
breathed hard. It was a slip, but Bunter carried it off with an air of fat
importance, very like that of the genuine Mr. Whiffles.
‘My good man, you can’t expect me to remember the names of all the hands I
employ,’ he said loftily.
‘Very good, sir! Name of Slaney, sir.’
‘Oh! Yes! I recall it now,’ said Bunter calmly. ‘I’ll speak to Ms. Dance, Slaney!
That’s all right.’
‘Thank you kindly, sir.’
‘Not at all, my good fellow, not at all!’ said Bunter. And he rolled on, glad to
escape.
He rolled towards the circus, realising that Slaney would be surprised if he
proceeded in any other direction. He stopped at a clump of bushes that
looked like a favourable spot for changing, out of sight. He blinked round, and
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