In either case, he found he had made a mistake.
The boys, with an instinct not, certainly, of self-righteousness, but of common justice, felt that they had had punishment enough already for their sin.

Mr Ashford took no account of those few seconds when the waggonette was dashing through the gate and reeling to its fall.

He reckoned as nothing the weary jolt home, the indignity of that supper last night, and the suspense of that early morning.

He made no allowance for an absence of malice in what they had done, and gave them no credit--although, indeed, neither did they give themselves credit-- for the regret and straightforwardness with which they had confessed it.
He proposed to treat them, the head boys of Mountjoy, as common delinquents, and punish them as he would punish a cheat, or a bully, or mutineer.
It wasn't fair--they knew it; and if Ashford didn't know it, too--well, he ought.
"We'd rather be caned, sir," said Richardson, speaking for all three.
Mr Ashford regarded the speaker with sharp surprise.
"Richardson, kindly remember I am the best judge of what punishment you deserve." "It's not fair to keep us in all the term," said Dick, his cheeks mounting colour with the desperateness of his boldness.
Mr Ashford changed colour, too, but his cheeks turned pale.
"Leave my sight, sir, instantly! How do you dare to use language like that to me!" Fortunately for the dignity, as well as for the comfort, of the three boys, Dick made no attempt to prolong the argument.

He turned and left the room, followed by his two faithful henchmen, little imagining that, if any one had scored in this unsatisfactory interview, he had.
Don't let the reader imagine that any mystical glory belongs to the schoolboy who happens to "score one" off his master.