only in South Harniss were there changes of heart. In New York
City and at Greenwich where Mrs. Fosdick was more than ever busy with
war work, there were changes. When the newspaper accounts of young
Speranza's heroic death were first published the lady paid little
attention to them. Her daughter needed all her care just then--all the
care, that is, which she could spare from her duties as president of
this society and corresponding secretary of that. If her feelings upon
hearing the news could have been analyzed it is probable that their
larger proportion would have been a huge sense of relief. THAT problem
was solved, at all events. She was sorry for poor Madeline, of course,
but the dear child was but a child and would recover.

But as with more and more intensity the limelight of publicity was
turned upon Albert Speranza's life and death and writing, the wife of
the Honorable Fletcher Fosdick could not but be impressed. As head of
several so-called literary societies, societies rather neglected since
the outbreak of hostilities, she had made it her business to hunt
literary lions. Recently it was true that military lions--Major
Vermicelli of the Roumanian light cavalry, or Private Drinkwater of the
Tank Corps--were more in demand than Tagores, but, as Mrs. Fosdick read
of Sergeant Speranza's perils and poems, it could not help occurring to
her that here was a lion both literary and martial. Decidedly she had
not approved of her daughter's engagement to that lion, but now the said
lion was dead, which rendered him a perfectly harmless yet not the
less fascinating animal. And then appeared The Lances of Dawn and Mrs.
Fosdick's friends among the elect began to read and talk about it.

It was then that the change came. Those friends, one by one, individuals
judiciously chosen, were told in strict confidence of poor Madeline's
romantic love affair and its tragic ending. These individuals, chosen
judiciously as has been stated, whispered, also in strict confidence,
the tale to other friends and acquaintances. Mrs. Fosdick began to
receive condolences on her daughter's account and on her own. Soon she
began to speak publicly of "My poor, dear daughter's dead fiance. Such a
loss to American literature. Sheer genius. Have you read the article in
the Timepiece? Madeline, poor girl, is heartbroken, naturally, but very
proud, even in the midst of her grief. So are we all, I assure you."

She quoted liberally from The Lances o