Read Online Billy Bunter of Greyfriars School and Billy Bunter's ... by Frank Richards - Free Book Online Page A

Remove knew of the sword of Damocles that
impended over Billy Bunter’s fat head.
Sad to relate, they did not take it with due seriousness. It was awful for
Bunter—but the rest of the Remove did not seem somehow to perceive the
awfulness of the situation. The prospect of losing Bunter did not have the
generally dismaying effect that might have been expected.
But if nobody else realised how serious it was, Bunter did. Billy Bunter didn’t
want to leave Greyfriars.
The place had its drawbacks, of course. Nobody there valued Bunter at his real
value. A fellow had to work—to some extent, at least. Quelch, like many
schoolmasters, fancied that fellows came to school to learn things. This was
quite a mistake, so far as Bunter was concerned.
Bunter was going to stick to the dear old school! But it was borne in upon his
fat mind, that there was only one means of sticking to the dear old school. He
had to tread the thorny path of reform. Reform, of course, was not
necessary—Bunter was completely satisfied with himself. Indeed his
self-satisfaction was unlimited. But it was Quelch that had to be
satisfied—there was the rub! And Quelch could only be satisfied by a drastic
change in William George Bunter’s manners and customs. To that resolve Billy
Bunter had come at last! It was neck or nothing.
With such serious matters on his fat mind, it was very irritating to Bunter to
be told to dry up and buzz off when he rolled in on the captain of the Remove.
Harry Wharton was sitting at the study table, with a paper before him, a pencil
in his hand, and a thoughtful wrinkle in his brow. He was going through the
list of the cricket team that was shortly going over to Highcliffe to play
Courtenay and the Caterpillar and their comrades. This, to the captain of the
Remove, was a rather serious matter: for the Highcliffe junior cricketers were
hot stuff, and the game would be anything but a walk-over.
But it was, of course, a trifle light as air, in comparison with Billy Bunter’s
problem. In fact, all the affairs of all other fellows, were the veriest
trifles in comparison with Bunter’s affairs!
 “Look here, Wharton, you know how I’m fixed,” said the fat Owl, with a
reproachful blink at the captain of his form. “I think you might back up a
fellow when he’s down on his luck—especially after all I’ve done for you.”
“Busy, old fat man. Cut off.”
“Lines for Quelch?” asked Bunter.
“No, ass—cricket list, for the Highcliffe match next week. And it’s just on
time for nets,” said Harry, glancing at the study clock. “Roll away, like a
good barrel.”
“Well, I’ve got to speak to you about cricket, among other things,” said
Bunter. “I suppose you don’t want me to leave Greyfriars, Wharton.”
Harry Wharton laughed.
“I might just be able to bear it,” he answered. “A fellow’s tuck would be safe
in his study cupboard, at any rate.”
‘Beast! I mean, I want your help, old chap. You know how the matter stands.
I’ve got to keep Quelch quiet, or he will push me out at the end of the term.
He’s said so. I’m going to get a good report this term, or bust!” declared
Bunter. “I’m going to get a good report, even if I have to mug up Latin like
Linley does, and sit up over deponent verbs with a wet towel round my head.”
“Good egg,” said Harry. “Best of luck! Shut the door after you.”
“I’m going all out,” said Bunter, impressively. “I loathe the muck, of
course—but after all, it’s simply a matter of brains to mug it up: and that’s
rather my long suit.”
“Oh, scissors!”
“It will mean work,” said Bunter. “But not so tough as in the pater’s office.
Well, I’m going to work.”
“The change may do you good,” assented Wharton. ‘Glad to hear it. Now go and
tell some other fellow about it.”
“But that isn’t all,” said Bunter. “There’s games. That’s where you come in.
You run games in the Remove, as captain. You can help me there. Quelch thinks