Backing Up Billy Bunter by Frank Richards

Author:Frank Richards [Richards, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0100-12-31T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

GO TO IT!

BILLY BUNTER uttered a dismal groan.

Peter Todd grinned.

It was after class, on Monday. Most fellows were out of the House, in the summer sunshine. Bunter was sitting at the study table in No. 7, with a lugubrious fat face. He had a pen in a fat hand, a blank sheet before him, and a deep wrinkle in a fat brow.

Bunter was going to swot!

On Saturday his resolution had been fixed. Over the weekend it had wobbled. It was now in a very wobbly state. Peter Todd was sympathetic: but he grinned.

'Go to it, old fat man,' he said, encouragingly. 'Quelch has set you a paper—all you've got to do is to shove it into Latin—.'

'All!' groaned Bunter.

'Brace up. It only means a spot of work.'

Bunter shuddered. Even the word 'work' made him feel as if he had a headache coming on.

'I—I'm going to do it, of course,' he said. 'It's up to me, Peter.'

'Keep that in mind,' said Peter.

'Ye-e-es! I—I'm going to stick to it! The pater's in a jam, and—and I'm not going to let him down. But—.'

'Wash out the buts!' advised Peter.

'But—but I've been thinking—.'

'That's right—think it out, and begin—.'

'I—I mean, I—I've been thinking that it would hardly do to—to overdo it at the start,' said Bunter, with a stealthy blink at Peter Todd through his big spectacles. 'A fellow gets stale, you know, with—with too much swotting all at once. I—I'll trot out with you, Peter, and—and do this paper later. Mind, I'm going to do it! But—but I think I shall tackle it better after a spot of fresh air. A fellow has to keep himself fit. Toddy! Mens sanders in corpus sandy, you know, old chap.'

'Which?' gasped Peter Todd.

'That means a healthy mind in a healthy body,' explained Bunter. 'You don't know much Latin if you don't know that, Toddy. Not much good you going in for the Founder's—he, he, he!'

'Ha, ha, ha!' yelled Toddy.

'Blessed if I see anything to cackle at!' hooted Bunter. 'What are you cackling at, I'd like to know.'

'Perhaps you mean mens sana in corpore sano,' suggested Toddy.

'No, I don't!' snorted Bunter. 'I mean what I said—mens sanders in corpus sandy, and if you can't construe that, Toddy—.'

'Ha, ha, ha!' gurgled Toddy. 'You'll have to pull up your socks, old fat man, if you're going to walk off with that schol. Get to it.'

Bunter rose from the table.

'Later,' he said. 'I'm not going to overdo it—that might spoil the whole thing. I've heard of fellows swotting so hard for an exam, that they get stale, and can't do a thing when it comes round. I shouldn't like that to happen, Peter.'

'Don't you be afraid,' assured Peter. 'Nothing will happen because you've worked too hard. That's the last thing that's likely to happen.'

'Oh, really, Toddy—.'

'Now sit down and get to it,' said Toddy. 'Quelch will expect to see that paper before prep.'

'Oh, lor'!' moaned Bunter. Reminded of Quelch, he sat down again. He blinked dismally at Peter. 'The rotten stuff's full of catches, you know.

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