“Don’t know yet. But won’t it be fine to see old Gage go? He’s caused enough trouble for half a dozen men.” The news proved to be true enough. On the tenth of October, General Gage sailed for England, never to return. Lord Howe, who had commanded the British in the assault at Charlestown, took Gage’s place. He was popular with the troops, but with the suffering townsfolk he was a poor substitute for the unpopular Gage. The proclamations that he issued were irritating at best; he seemed to think only of the safety and comfort of his soldiers. One of his first acts was to erect new fortifications. Then he requisitioned private dwellings and some of the meeting-houses for the use of his men. CHAPTER XII A BLUSTERING SERGEANT-MAJOR “Donald, someone’s at the door. Hurry and answer it.” Aunt Martha’s voice sounded from her nephew’s room up-stairs, which she was sweeping. Knock, knock--_knock_! “He’s pretty anxious to make us hear,” said Don as he crossed the floor of the living-room. Knock! Don opened the door and looked full into the face of a red-haired, red-coated British sergeant-major, who at once inserted his foot and pushed his way inside the room. “Who lives here besides yourself, young sire?” he demanded. Don stared at him and thought he had never seen such an ugly-looking fellow. He was big and broad and flabby, and the only thing about him that was not red, it seemed, were his eyes, which were a pale, washed-out blue. “Don’t stand there and stare!” the sergeant-major bellowed. “Tell me who lives here.” “My Aunt Martha Hollis and I and my uncle David, who’s with the Continental army just at present,” replied Don. The soldier snorted and then hurried to face Aunt Martha, who had come down-stairs. “Is that right?” he asked in a surly but milder voice. “My nephew has told you the truth,” Aunt Martha replied with dignity. “How many rooms are in the house?” “The living-room and three rooms up-stairs.” The sergeant-major produced a piece of paper. “Show me to the rooms up-stairs,” he said and walked toward the stairway. “Why do you wish to see them?” asked Aunt Martha, somewhat alarmed and bewildered. The soldier made no reply but mounted the steps. Don followed him closely. After a brief inspection of the rooms they came down, and the soldier wrote something on the slip of paper. “You’ll have two men to billet,” he said. “So you’d better fix up that big room at the front.” “I’ll do nothing of the sort,” Aunt Martha said indignantly. The man’s red face became redder than ever; he started to say something, then checked himself and laughed. “Two men,” he repeated and strode toward the door and slammed it behind him. “O Donald!” cried Aunt Martha. “If your uncle were only here!” Don clenched his fists. “Two Redcoats to live with us all winter!” he exclaimed. “That’s what it means, Aunt Martha.”