Aunt made no reply; she smiled sadly and kindly upon me, and her tacit approval sent me directly to my uncle. He was in his private office. I knocked gently at the door. "Come in." I did so; and there I stood, not a little confused and perplexed before him, with flushed cheeks and a fast-throbbing heart. It was the first complaint I had ever made to him in my life--the first time I had ever dared to enter his _sanctum sanctorum_; and I remained tongue-tied upon the threshold, without knowing how to begin. I thought he would have looked me down. I felt the blood receding from my face beneath his cold gaze, as he said-- "Geoffrey, what do you want here?" "I came, sir," I at last faltered out, "to make a complaint against Mr. Jones." "I never listen to complaints brought by a pupil against his teacher," he cried, in a voice which made me recoil over the door-step. "Be gone, sir! If you come into my presence again on such an errand, I will spurn you from the room." This speech, meant to intimidate me, restored my courage. I felt the hot blood rush to my face in a fiery flood. "Hear me, sir. Did not you place me under his care in order that I might learn?" "And you refuse to do so?" "No, sir: the reverse is the case: he refuses to teach me, and deprives me of my books, so that I cannot teach myself." "A very _probable_ tale," sneered Mr. Moncton; then rising from the table at which he was seated, he cried out hastily, "Is Mr. Jones in the study?" "Yes, sir." "Then, my new client, come along with me. I will soon learn the truth of your case." He clutched me by the arm, which he grasped so tightly that I could scarcely resist a cry of pain, and hurried me out. In the study we found Theophilus and Mr. Jones: the one lounging on two chairs, the other smoking a cigar and reading a novel. Mr. Moncton stood for a moment in the door-way, regarding the pair with his peculiar glance. "Gentlemen, you seem _pleasantly_ and _profitably_ employed!" "Our morning tasks are concluded," said Theophilus, returning the stare of scrutiny with a steady lie. "'Too much work would make Jack a dull boy.'" His father smiled grimly. How well he understood the character of his son. "Here is a lad, Mr. Jones, who complains that you not only refuse to teach him, but deprive him of his books." "He tells the truth, sir," returned that worthy, casting upon me a spiteful, sidelong glance, which seemed to say more eloquently than words, "You shall see, master Geoffrey, what you'll get by tale-bearing. I'll match you yet." "I have withheld his books, and refused my instructions for the past week, as a punishment for his insolent and disrespectful conduct to your son and me; to say nothing of his impertinent speeches regarding _you_, sir, who are his guardian and benefactor." "Do you hear that--sir!" said my uncle, giving me a violent blow on my cheek, and flinging me from him. "When next you come to me with such tales, you shall not leave your bed for a week."