The Colonel, in his wrath, even while addressing only Caroline and Mr. Ogilvie, had raised his voice as if he were shouting words of command, so that both shrank a little, and Carey said—
“I don’t think he knew it was so bad.”
“What? Cheating his masters and torturing a helpless child for not yielding to his tyranny?”
“People don’t always give things their right names even to themselves,” said Mr. Ogilvie. “I should try to see it from the boy’s point of view.”
“I have no notion of extenuating ill-conduct or making excuses! That’s the modern way! So principles get lowered! I tell you, sir, there are excuses for everything. What makes the difference is only the listening to them or not.”
“Yes,” ventured Caroline, “but is there not a difference between finding excuses for oneself and for other people?”
“All alike, lowering the principle,” said the Colonel, with something of the same slowness of comprehension as his son. “If excuses are to be made for everything, I don’t wonder that there is no teaching one’s boys truth or common honesty and humanity.”
“But, Robert,” said Caroline, roused to defence; “do you really mean that in your time nobody bullied or cribbed?”
“There was some shame about it if they did,” said the Colonel. “Now, I suppose, I am to be told that it is an ordinary custom to be connived at.”
“Certainly not by me,” said Mr. Ogilvie. “I had hoped that the standard of honour had been raised, but it is very hard to mete the exact level of the schoolboy code from the outside.”