No Job for Bunter

"Oh!" said Mr. Clegg, looking a little crusty. Thank you. Master Bunter. If you know of a suitable lad I'd be obliged if you'd send him along ‘ere to see me. Getting the things out is a sore trouble."

"You want a keen, intelligent fellow, businesslike, apt, nice manners, and pretty strong and athletic-what?" asked Bunter.

"That's wot I'd like, certainly," said Mr. Clegg, staring. "I ain't likely to get one like that hese 'ere days."

"That's where you make a mistake," said Billy Bunter cheerfully. "The fact is, Mr. Clegg, I've seen that notice in your window, 'Boy Wanted,' and I've come for the job."

"You!" stuttered Mr. Clegg.

Billy Bunter leaned the umbrella on the counter, and then leaned is plump person on the same, regarding the astonished Mr. Clegg with an amicable blink.

"I mean it," he said. "Being war-time, I'm going to do some work. I shan't ask much in the way of salary - only a few pounds a week!"

"Say three pounds," said Bunter. "You can give me a rise later if you think I’m worth it. That's fair."

"Three pounds a week!" said Mr. Clegg dazedly.

It was probable that the village shop did not produce that sum for its proprietor. But Billy Bunter was not well up in the village grocery business.

"I should not be able to work full time, so I won’t ask more than that" went on Bunter. "I'd put in all the time I could. I can't say more than that. A lot depends on how much time I can get off from classes at school. My Form-master may be unreasonable about it - I shouldn’t wonder! I can only promise to put in all the time I can."

"My eye I" said Mr. Clegg.

"You may think I shouldn't like to carry a grocer's basket, or to take orders from a little tuppenny-ha'penny village grocer like you," went on Bunter agreeably. "But don't you make any mistake about that. I should expect you of course, to treat me with proper respect, considering my position and yours."

"My eye!" repeated Mr. Clegg.

He stood blinking at Banter as if the fat Owl were taking his breath away.

"I'm prepared to carry the grocer's basket and deliver the goods - especially jam!" said Bunter. "Being new to the business, I should expect you not to make a fuss if anything got lost."

"My eye!" said Mr. Clegg for the third time.

"At times I should be able to take charge of the shop while you went out for a walk, or anything," went on Bunter. "Everything would be perfectly safe with me, of course - I shouldn't eat the sugar."

"Eh!"

"Or the biscuits-"

"My eye!"

"As for cake or toffee or doughnuts or anything of that kind, I don't really care for them," said Bunter. "I certainly shouldn't start scoffing them as scan as you were gone out Mr. Clegg."

"Oh!" said Mr- Clegg.

"I shouldn't be able to call you 'sir' like an ordinary grocer's boy", added Bunter thoughtfully. "There's a limit! In fact, I think it would be better for you to call me ' sir’. More suitable, you know."

"Oh gosh!" said Mr. Clegg.

"And, in the - the circumstances, should like a week's pay in advance owing to being disappointed about postal order."

"Blow me tight!" said Mr. Clegg.

"And now," said Bunter briskly "you can consider it a go if you like. Don't thank me, I'm doing this for patriotic reasons. This is a time for every fellow to do what he can, however humble. My aristocratic friends would be surprised if they saw me at it, my titled relations would stare but I don't care. I'm no snob, Mr Clegg. I intend to treat you with perfect civility - so long as you know your place, of course, and don't do say anything cheeky. I'm sure you have tact enough to remember the difference in our positions."

Mr. Clegg seemed to find some difficulty in breathing.

He did not answer; he seemed to have lost the power of speech.

Bunter apparently took silence for consent. No doubt he supposed that Mr. Clegg was overwhelmed a little by tile dazzling prospect of securing such a grocer's boy as Bunter!

"Now, if you've got anything to deliver at the school I'll take it back with me," said Bunter briskly. "Don't think I mind carrying the basket. Nobody who sees me will suppose that I'm your class, Mr. Clegg; you needn’t worry about that!"

Mr, Clegg, who seemed in a dazed and dizzy state, came to life at last. He opened the flap of the counter and stepped through.

Bunter blinked at him in anticipation. He concluded that there were goods for the school and that Mr. Clegg was going to hand them over for delivery. He hoped that there was jam among them.

But that was not Mr. Clegg’s intention

Mr Clegg did not speak. He stepped towards Billy Bunter, and, to the fat Owl's great astonishment, grasped him by the back of the neck.

"Here, I say - " ejaculated the startled Owl.

With a swing of his arm Mr. Clegg hooked Bunter to the doorway.

Bunter wriggled and roared in angry astonishment.

"I say, wharrer you up to?" he howled. "Gone mad? Leggo my neck, you cheeky old ass. Will you leggo?"

Mr. Clegg swung Bunter into the doorway, and then, as requested, he let go - pitching the astonished fat owl out of the shop!

Bunter spun.