Not the sort of pride that makes you consider yourself better than your neighbours.

Riddell really couldn't think that even had he wished it.
But his pride was of that kind which won't admit of anybody to help it, which would sooner knock its head to bits against a stone wall than own it can't get through it, and which can never bring itself to say "I am beaten," even when it is clear to all the world it is beaten.
Pride had had a fall this day at any rate; but it had risen again more stubborn than ever; and if Riddell went to bed that night the most unhappy boy in Willoughby, he went there also resolving more than ever to remain its captain.
Other events had happened that day which, one might suppose, should have convinced him he was attempting an impossibility.

But these must be reserved for the next chapter..