Their captain had been bowled for a duck's-egg.

Their best bowlers had been knocked about by the very batsmen whom the schoolhouse bowlers had dispatched with ease.
It was vain to attempt to account for it, to assert that the schoolhouse had had the best of the luck: that the light had favoured them; or that just when they happened to bowl the Rockshire men had got careless.
Even such stick-at-nothing enthusiasts as Parson, Bosher, and Co., couldn't make a case of it, and were forced to admit with deep mortification that the glory had departed from Parrett's, at any rate for a season.
Perhaps the most patriotic rejoicings that evening were in Welch's house.

They cared but little about the rivalry between Parrett's, and the schoolhouse, and were therefore free to exult as Willoughbites pure and simple, bestowing, of course, a special cheer on their own man, Riddell, who, though not having performed prodigies, had yet done honest work for his eleven, and at any rate made one smart catch.
"I tell you what," said Fairbairn, who along with Coates and Porter had escaped from the violent applause of the schoolhouse and sought refuge that evening in the captain's study--"I tell you what, I'm getting perfectly sick of this everlasting schoolhouse against Parrett business." "So am I," said Porter.

"As if they need go into the sulks because our fellows did better than they did!" "They've brought it on themselves, anyhow," said Coates, "and it may do them good to have to sing small for once." "I'm afraid if it had been the other way our fellows would have been just as much cut up as theirs are," said Fairbairn.

"Upon my word I half envy you, Riddell, old man, being a Welcher." Riddell smiled.
"Our fellows certainly consider themselves free to abuse or cheer all round, without the least partiality.