Bunter Keeps It Dark

Frank Richards – Bunter Keeps It Dark BUNTER KEEPS IT DARK By FRANK RICHARDS Illustrations by C. H. CHAPMAN Page | 1 Frank Richards – Bunter Keeps It Dark Page | 2 Frank Richards – Bunter Keeps It Dark CHAPTER 1 BAD LUCK FOR BUNTER 'BOB, old chap—' 'Shush! ' 'But I say—' 'Quiet! ' 'Oh, really, Cherry! I——' 'BUNTER!' A voice, not loud but deep, interrupted Billy Bunter's whisper. Whispering in class was not encouraged in the Greyfriars Remove. Fellows were expected to listen in attentive silence to their form-master's words of wisdom. And sometimes Mr. Quelch's ears seemed as keen as his gimlet-eyes. Those gimlet-eyes fixed sharply on William George Bunter. 'Bunter! Are you talking in class?' 'Oh! No, sir!' gasped Bunter. 'I never opened my mouth, sir! I only said to Cherry—I—I mean I didn't said—' 'Silence! ' Billy Bunter breathed hard. Silence did not really agree with Bunter. His fat voice was music to his own plump ears, if to no others. But after that bark from Quelch, even Billy Bunter would have remembered that silence was golden, in normal circumstances. But the circumstances were not quite normal. Bunter had had bad luck in second school that morning. He had 'skewed' in con even more egregiously than was his happy wont. As a result, he had been kept in during morning break. While the rest of the Remove crowded out into summer sunshine, Bunter had had to sit it out in the dusky form-room, with a Latin grammar for company. Not that Bunter was, like Harry Wharton and Co. and most of the other fellows, keen on the fresh air and the open spaces. Even on a summer's morning he would have preferred to stretch lazy fat limbs in an armchair in the Rag. But the juniors had their letters in break. Billy Bunter was always one of the first to scan the letter-rack. He was expecting a postal-order. But on this particular morning the rack had had to be left unscanned. Naturally, Bunter wanted to know whether there was one for him. Almost any fellow could have told him, when the Remove came in for third school. It needed only an exchange of whispers. But Bunter's first whisper had been nipped in the bud, as it were. It was very irritating to Bunter. If there was a letter for him in the rack, it might contain the postal-order he had long been expecting. That possibility far out-weighed, in importance, anything that was going on in the Remove form-room: or indeed in the whole universe. Latin grammar was the order of the day in third school. Quelch was expounding to his form the mysteries of deponent verbs, which Bunter specially loathed. Any Latin verb was beastly: but a wretched verb which was passive in form but active in meaning was doubly so. With the thought of a possible postal-order in his fat mind, Bunter simply couldn't concentrate on deponent verbs. Quelch's voice passed him by like a drone in the distance. However, in dread of the gimlet-eye, the fat Owl of the Remove contrived to keep silent for several minutes. Then he was whispering again. This time he whispered very low: Page | 3 Frank Richards – Bunter Keeps It Dark 'I say, Wharton—' That whisper was very low, and did not reach Mr. Quelch's keen ears. Neither did it reach Harry Wharton's. The captain of the Remove gave no sign. 'Inky, old man—!' breathed Bunter, a little more loudly. Hurree Jamset Ram Singh heard, but like the ancient gladiator, he did not heed. Probably he did not want to draw a gimlet-eye in his direction. 'Bull, old chap—' No sign from Johnny Bull. 'Wibley, old fellow—' Wibley, old fellow, seemed deaf or dumb. 'Nugent! I say, Franky, old man—' 'Quiet, you fat ass!' whispered Frank Nugent. 'Beast!' breathed Bunter. 'I—I—I mean—I say, Franky, old chap—did you notice whether there was one for me—?' 'BUNTER!' 'Oh, crikey!' 'You are whispering again, Bunter.' Quelch's voice was louder and deeper. He gave the verb 'hortor' a momentary rest, while he transferred his attention to the fattest member of his form. 'You are not listening to me, Bunter.' 'Oh, yes, sir!' gasped Bunter. 'I—I heard every word you were saying, sir! Every sus—sus— syllable, sir.' He wondered dizzily what Quelch might have been saying! 'Indeed,' said Mr. Quelch, grimly. 'Tell me the meaning of the verb "hortor", Bunter.' 'Oh, lor'!' breathed Bunter. He blinked dismally at Quelch through his big spectacles. As 'hortor' was the deponent verb on which Quelch had been expounding, the fat Owl should not really have been at a loss for an answer. But as he had not listened to a single word, he was quite in the dark. And if Bunter had ever known what 'hortor' meant, he had forgotten. Bunter had quite a remarkable gift of forgetting anything he learned in the form-room, a minute or so after he was outside its door. 'Did you hear me, Bunter?' Quelch's voice deepened still more. 'Oh! Yes, sir! Certainly, sir.' 'Then answer me.' Faintly, from Bob Cherry, came a whisper. It was risky, but Bob, always good-natured, ventured to give the hapless Owl first-aid. 'Exhort!' he breathed. 'Oh!' Billy Bunter brightened, as that faint whisper reached a fat ear. 'I know, sir! It means exhort, sir.' 'Cherry!' rapped Mr. Quelch. 'Oh! Yes, sir!' stammered Bob. 'Did you whisper to Bunter?' Undoubtedly Quelch’s ears were very keen that morning. 'Yes, sir!' mumbled Bob, with a crimson face. 'You will take fifty lines, Cherry, for whispering in class. Now, Bunter, you will give me the meaning of "hortabar".' This time Billy Bunter was not dismayed. Having assimilated 'hortor', he could deal with this. He knew the passive form. Unfortunately he did not remember, at the moment, that 'hortor', being a deponent, took the passive form when it was really on the active list. 'Yes, sir—"hortabar". I was exhorted!' said Bunter, quite cheerfully. 'What?' hooted Mr. Quelch. 'Oh! Is—is—isn't that right, sir?' stuttered Bunter. Page | 4 Frank Richards – Bunter Keeps It Dark 'It is not right, Bunter, as you would be aware if you had given attention to the lesson. "Hortor" is a deponent, Bunter, taking the passive form while active in meaning. If you had been listening to me—' 'Oh! Yes, sir! I—I—I forgot——' 'You forgot, Bunter?' thundered Mr. Quelch. 'Oh! No! I—I don't mean that I forgot, sir—I—I—I only meant that I—I didn't remember, sir!' babbled Bunter. 'Ha, ha, ha!' 'Silence in the class! Bunter, I warn you to give me your attention. If you whisper again in class, I shall cane you.' Billy Bunter sat silent, but with deep feelings. Quelch's voice droned on, tracking that wretched verb 'hortor' through all its windings and twistings. Bunter, really and truly, didn't want to know about deponent verbs: he wanted to know whether there was a letter for him, which might happily contain that long-expected postal-order. But for quite a long time, Bunter remained mum. Then, as Quelch turned to the blackboard, and picked up the chalk, to illustrate the subjunctive of 'hortor', the fat Owl seized the opportunity to whisper again. 'Bob, old fellow—' Bob Cherry gave him a glare. He did not know what Bunter was whispering about, and did not want to know. Neither did he want to draw a gimlet-eye. But a glare did not deter Bunter. 'Was there one for me, old chap?' he breathed. Bob Cherry nearly asked, 'One what?' But he checked in time. However, Billy Bunter proceeded to elucidate. 'I told you I was expecting a postal-order, old chap! I say, was there a letter for me in the rack?' Then Bob understood: and he shook his head. He was able to give an answer to that question without speaking. The answer was in the negative. A shake of the head was enough—or should have been enough. But Billy Hunter never could let well alone. 'I say, sure?' he breathed. 'I say, Cherry, you sure there ain't one for me? I was jolly well expecting—' 'BUNTER!' 'Oh, lor'!' gasped Bunter. Mr. Quelch had turned from the blackboard. He laid down the chalk, and picked up his cane. The pluperfect subjunctive, like Schubert's celebrated symphony, remained unfinished. Bunter had been warned that if he whispered again the cane would come into action. Now he had it coming. 'You are whispering again, Bunter. It seems that you will not attend to the lesson. Bunter. Stand out before the form. Bunter! ' 'I—I—I—I never—' 'At once.' An apprehensive fat Owl rolled out of his place. 'Bend over that desk, Bunter.' Whop! 'Ow! wow! wow! wow!' Latin verbs resumed the even tenor of their way in the Remove form-room. The juniors continued to absorb valuable knowledge of subjunctives: imperfect, perfect, and pluperfect. Billy Bunter sat and wriggled. And the looks he gave Mr. Quelch, when that gentleman's majestic head was turned, might almost have cracked his spectacles. Page | 5 Frank Richards – Bunter Keeps It Dark CHAPTER 2 A NEW USE FOR A DICTIONARY TAP! Mr. Quelch frowned. A tap at the form-room door interrupted the lesson. Quelch frowned: but almost every other face in the form-room brightened. Quelch did not like interruptions in class. In that he differed from most of his form.

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