Just Like Bunter by Frank Richards

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

HIS EYES GLITTERED AT THE QUIET JUNIONR WHO STOOD

WITH HIS BACK TO THE DOOR

With that, Tom Redwing opened the box-room door, and stepped quietly out. The Bounder, with a shrug of the shoulders, followed, in silence. It was the end: and, for the time at least, he did not care. And when, the following morning, Tom Redwing left for Hawkscliff, he went without a word to his former chum.

CHAPTER 19

'PLACED!'

'BUNTER!'

'Beast!'

Billy Bunter prudently backed away as he made that rejoinder. Why Herbert Vernon-Smith came up to him in the quad after class on Monday, the fat Owl did not know: neither did he particularly want to know. His feelings towards Smithy were quite inimical, and he had no use for him whatever. In Smithy's palmy days, not so long ago, Billy Bunter could no doubt have forgiven and forgotten bootings on his plump trousers, and bangings of his fat head. But Smithy's study was no longer like unto a land flowing with milk and honey. Lavish spreads in that study were things of the past. So there was no reason at all for Billy Bunter to waste any civility on Smithy: and he was not going to waste any. He backed away out of reach of a boot, and turned up his fat little nose.

Vernon-Smith's eyes flashed for a moment. His temper, never much kept in control, was more uncertain than ever these days. But he checked it. He had a use for Bunter, if Bunter had none for him. His voice was as amicable as he could make it, as he went on:

'You know I'm gated, Bunter-'

'Serve you jolly well right,' said Bunter, backing away a little further.

'I can't get out-!'

'I know that!'

'Will you cut down to Friardale for me-?'

'Wha-a-at?' Billy Bunter fairly stuttered, in his surprise at that request. It was almost a mile to the village of Friardale. There were eight furlongs in a mile which was seven more than Bunter liked when he exercised his little fat legs. The idea of covering that distance, to oblige a fellow who had banged his head, did not appeal to Billy Bunter in the very least. 'Did-did you say cut down to Friardale?'

'Yes. You see-'

'No, I jolly well won't!' yapped Bunter. 'Like your cheek to ask me. Yah!'

'I'll do your lines for you while you're gone.'

'Oh!'

Billy Bunter was about to roll indignantly away. But he paused at that. Bunter had lines to do-only too often he had! Having 'skewed' in 'con' that morning, he had been rewarded with a hundred lines from Quelch. Since class he had asked at least a dozen fellows to help him out with that impot: but there was, as usual, selfishness all round-nobody wanted to do Bunter's lines for him. So Smithy's offer came as rather a windfall for a lazy fat Owl.

'Oh!' repeated Bunter. He considered the matter carefully. A walk down to the village implied exertion, it was true. On the other hand, a walk on a pleasant autumn afternoon was preferable to sitting in a study grinding out Latin lines.

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