Free Chains by Laurie Halse Anderson

could have been in disguise. Four wore the coats, breeches, powdered wigs, and hats of merchants; one had papers tucked under his arm. Six soldiers stood behind them, all wearing uniforms but carrying long metal bars instead of guns.
    Becky opened the door and the men filed inside.
    I stepped out into the hall and peered down the stairs. The man with the papers under his arm had removed his hat. It was Master Bellingham.
    My heart sang.
    A door slammed overhead as Madam flew out of her chamber. “What is the meaning of this?”
    I pressed myself against the wall so she could rush by me, then followed her down the stairs. The soldiers had split into two groups. Half went into the front parlor, and the other half into Lockton’s library. Both groups set to removing the windows, prying them out of their casings with the long bars.
    â€œWhat are you doing to my windows?” Madam demanded.
    Bellingham approached her. “No need to fret, ma’am. We are all called to make sacrifices.”
    â€œSacrifices?” Master Lockton asked as he hurried in. “This is thievery. What right have you to destroy my home?”
    There was a horrific crash in the parlor as the hooks that held up the heavy draperies flew off the wall and landed on the floor. Plaster dust swirled.
    Bellingham removed the papers under his arm. “You surprise me, Elihu,” he said. “I thought a Patriot such as yourself would welcome the chance to contribute to the army.”
    Beads of sweat stood at the edge of Lockton’s wig. “How does that pertain to the ripping down of my house, James?”
    Bellingham patted Lockton’s shoulder. “We need your lead, friend. For ammunition. Good people throughout the city are donating all the lead they own. The Provincial Congress will compensate you, of course. In due time. I’ve invoices prepared.”
    Madam frowned. “How is it possible to turn windows into bullets?”
    â€œThe counterweights are made of lead, ma’am,” Bellingham explained. “And your drapery pulls.”
    â€œThis is an outrage,” Lockton fumed.
    â€œNo, Elihu,” Bellingham said. “This is war. Even our churches are making the sacrifice, delivering their bells to be recast as cannon. Surely you do not rate your home above the houses of God?”
    The soldiers left the library, deposited the lead weights by the front door, and headed up to the second floor, knocking their shoulders against the paintings of the Lockton ancestors that lined the staircase.
    I wanted to shout that they should search for the money in the linen chest. Instead, I shrank against the wall to let them pass.
    â€œThey haven’t restored the windows to the frames,” protested Lockton.
    â€œWhere are they going?” Madam asked.
    â€œThere are plenty of carpenters who will assist with the windows, if you don’t feel up to the task yourself, Elihu,” Bellingham said.
    â€œSir!” shouted a soldier upstairs. “We’ve found it!”
    Bellingham dropped his manners and bounded up the stairs, two at a time. Madam and Lockton followed close on his heels. I trailed behind.
    The bedchamber was a large room made small by the four-poster canopy bed that sat as high as a carriage, two massive armoires, and a half-dozen men with red faces. Madam had once again set herself on her walnut linen chest, which sat in front of the hearth.
    Why was it up here?
    â€œâ€¦ of all the insults, of all the assaults on the dignity of a woman,” she said to Bellingham, “this, sir, is the lowest, the most base. I shall see to it that every leader in every land knows—”
    â€œMadam,” Bellingham said sternly. “If you do not take your person from that chest, I shall order these soldiers to remove you.”
    â€œYou would not dare,” she said.
    â€œYes, he would, dear,” Lockton said. “Please, wife, let these men do their work with no