Billy Bunter of Greyfriars School and Billy Bunter's ... Read Free

me?”
“None!” answered five voices in unison.
“Well, I like that!” said the fat Owl, hotly. “It would be only twenty-five
each for the six of us, to make up the hundred—!”
“Oh, crumbs!” gasped Bob Cherry. “How many?”
“I—I mean twenty,” said Bunter, hastily. “Six twenties are a hundred—you can’t
teach me arithmetic, Bob Cherry.”
“I shouldn’t like to try!” gurgled Bob.
“Well, what about it?” asked Bunter. “You fellows make out that I dodge games
practice—!”
“No making out about it,” growled Johnny Bull. “You do dodge games practice,
you fat slacker, and you’ve been whopped for it.”
“Well, I’m not dodging it today, and it ain’t a compulsory day, either,”
snorted Bunter. “I say, you fellows, I’m fearfully keen on it. I say, you help
me through with my lines, and I’ll come down to the nets—it’s pretty rotten for
a fellow to have to stick indoors writing lines when he wants to be at the
nets. Tain’t much of an impot if we whack it out all round.”
Billy Bunter blinked appealingly at five faces, one after another, through his
big spectacles.
Harry Wharton and Co. hesitated. But Bunter had touched the right chord. If the
lazy fat Owl was keen on games practice, for once, instead of frowsting in a
study armchair as usual, the Famous Five were the fellows to give him
encouragement.
“You can make your fists like mine,” urged Bunter. “Near enough for Quelch,
anyway. I’ll do some of the lines myself—there!” added Bunter, in a burst of
generosity. “I mean it. I never was lazy, I hope! Why, we can get the whole lot
through in ten minutes, if you fellows put your beef into it. What?”
“Oh, let’s!” said Bob. Bob Cherry was always good-natured: and there was no doubt
that he was pleased to see signs of amendment in the fat slacker of the Remove.
It was not exactly unknown in the Greyfriars Remove for fellows to lend one
another a helping hand with impots: and Bunter’s really seemed a deserving
case. Bob looked round at his friends, and Wharton, Nugent and Hurree Singh
nodded: and Johnny Bull gave a grunt. So it was settled.
“That’s right!” said Bunter. “I’ll start the rotten thing, and you fellows can
carry on, see? Mind your spelling—Quelch might smell a rat if you put in any
wrong spelling. Just copy what I write.”
And Billy Bunter picked up a pen, dipped it into the ink, and wrote the first
line. Five grinning faces looked on as he wrote “King Charles II, hid in the
royle oke after the Battel of Wooster.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” yelled Bob Cherry. “Are we to spell it like that, Bunter?”
“Eh! Yes! I want you to be careful with the spelling, you know. Spelling’s
rather my strong point, and I don’t want any mistakes.”
“Ha, ha, ha!”
“You’re wasting time cackling.” pointed out Bunter. “Pile in and get on with
it. I want to get down to the nets, you know.”
“Perhaps we’d better spell it Bunter’s way.” said Harry Wharton, laughing.
“That’s what Quelch will expect—from Bunter.”
“And don’t forget a few blots and smears,” grinned Bob. “Quelch will expect
them too—from Bunter.”
“I say, you fellows, get on with it,” urged Bunter.
The Famous Five got on with it. It was only necessary to scrawl in a sprawling
round-hand to make the writing sufficiently like Bunter’s. And there was little
doubt that when Mr. Quelch saw the spelling, he would hardly suspect that
anyone but Billy Bunter had had a hand in it.
Many hands made light work. Bunter’s impot was finished in record time. The Owl
of the Remove gathered up the sheets with great satisfaction.
“I’ll cut down to Quelch’s study with this,” he said. “Don’t you fellows wait
for me—get down and change for cricket. I’ll join you in a few ticks.”
Harry Wharton and Co. went down to the changing-room. There, they expected to
see Billy Bunter roll in, in a few minutes.
But Billy Bunter did not roll in.
So they went down