studied the causes, but most were swayed by propinquity and kinship,
which with youth are more potent factors than logic.

The afternoon passed slowly. Dr. Russell, who always heard the
recitations of the seniors in Latin, did not call the class. Harry was
so much absorbed in other thoughts that he did not notice the fact.
Outside, the clouds still gathered and the soft beat of the snow on the
window panes never ceased. The hour of dismissal came at last and the
older boys, putting on their overcoats, went silently out. Harry did
not dream that he had passed the doors of Pendleton Academy for the
last time, as a student.

While the seniors were quiet, there was no lack of noise from the
younger lads. Snowballs flew and the ends of red comforters, dancing
in the wind, touched the white world with glowing bits of color. Harry
looked at them with a sort of pity. The magnified emotions of youth had
suddenly made him feel very old and very responsible. When a snowball
struck him under the ear he paid no attention to it, a mark of great
abstraction in him.

He and his cousin walked gravely on, and left the shouting crowd behind
them. Three or four hundred yards further, they came upon the main
street of Pendleton, a town of fifteen hundred people, important in
its section as a market, and as a financial and political center. It
had two banks as solid as stone, and it was the proud boast of its
inhabitants that, excepting Louisville and Lexington, its bar was of
unequalled talent in the state. Other towns made the same claim,
but no matter. Pendleton knew that they were wrong. Lawyers stood
very high, especially when they were fluent speakers.