Free Billy Bunter of Greyfriars School and Billy Bunter's ... by Frank Richards Page B

disentangle
any other meaning from the rot. But he couldn’t. If “ At pius Aeneas, per
noctem plurima volvens, ut primum lux alma data est, exire locosque explorare
novos ” didn’t mean “But the good Aeneas, turning over often in the night,
when he is given a light goes out and explores nine places”, Bunter just didn’t
know what it did mean or might mean.
“Well?” hooted Mr. Quelch.
“I—I think I’ve got it right, sir!” gasped Bunter. “You utterly obtuse boy—.”
“Oh, really, sir—.”
“If you had prepared this lesson, Bunter, you could not  possibly make such
absurd mistakes. You have done no preparation. You are making wild guesses at
the meaning of that passage! Your translation, Bunter, would disgrace a small
boy in the Second Form. I will not permit such idleness, such slackness—in my
form! I have warned you, Bunter, of the consequences of idleness and slackness.
I shall now cane you.”
“Oh, lor’!”
“Stand out before the class, Bunter.”
Billy Bunter rolled out reluctantly. Mr. Quelch picked up the cane from his
desk. Billy Bunter eyed it with apprehension.
“Bend over that chair, Bunter.”
Whack!
“Ow!”
Whack!
Bunter wriggled back to his place. He wriggled a good deal during the remainder
of that lesson. When the form were dismissed, he wriggled his way out of the
form-room. And he realised, very clearly, that he hadn’t made any progress
towards that good report at the end of the term. On that point there was no
doubt: no possible, probable shadow of doubt: no possible doubt whatever!
    CHAPTER XIII
    COKER’S HAMPER!
    “HERE, lend a hand!”
Horace Coker did not request—he rapped out a command, in the lofty manner that
was customary with Coker of the Fifth. Bunter blinked round.
He was coming upstairs, and had reached the middle landing, when Coker’s voice
hailed him from behind. Coker of the Fifth was coming up after him, and Coker
of the Fifth was heavy-laden. He was carrying a hamper— and it was a rather
large and heavy hamper.
Coker was a powerful fellow, but he seemed to have a spot of bother with that
hamper on the stairs. So, seeing a junior in the offing, he called to him to
lend a hand. Some fellows, wanting a helping hand, would have put the request
politely. But Coker of the Fifth had little politeness to waste on a fag of the
Lower Fourth. Coker of the Fifth always spoke as one having authority, saying
“Do this!” and he doeth it. It was one of Coker’s ways.
“Don’t stand there like a stuffed dummy,” went on Coker, crossly, as Billy
Bunter blinked down at him through his big spectacles. “Come and lend a hand
with this hamper, you fat young ass.”
“O, really, Coker—.”
“And sharp!” snapped Coker.
Many Remove fellows, addressed thus peremptorily, by Coker of the Fifth, would
have told Coker where he got off, or walked on regardless. And Billy Bunter was
really the least likely recruit. Bunter had plenty of weight to carry up the
stairs, without a hamper added. Neither was he fearfully keen on exertion of
any kind. Nevertheless, Billy Bunter turned back, to give Horace Coker the
required helping hand.
It was the hamper that did it. Bunter knew Coker’s hampers—they came from
Coker’s Aunt Judy, and were always crammed with good things. Miss Judith Coker
believed that nothing was too good for her dear Horace. Bunter was deeply
interested in the hamper, if not in Coker. So Bunter descended the stairs, and
grasped one handle of the hamper, and exerted himself to be of  assistance.
Between them, the hamper was heaved up to the middle landing, and across it, to
the upper stairs. Halfway up to the upper landing, Billy Bunter was spluttering
for breath.
“I—I say, stop a minute,” he gasped. “I—I’m out of breath.”
“You would be!” snapped Coker. “Fat, lazy, slack little porker—.”
“Look here—!”
“Don’t jaw! Get on with it,” said Coker. And he barged on, heedless of Billy
Bunter’s desire for a