explain. He spoke
with due respect of Mistress Fell, his 'honoured neighbour,' as he
called her. ''Tis her well-known kindness of heart that hath led her
astray. She hath warmed a snake in her bosom, a wandering Quaker
Preacher, who hath beguiled and corrupted both herself and her
household.'

'A wandering, Ranting Quaker entertained in my house, during my
absence!' Judge Fell had an even temper, but the rising flush on his
forehead betokened the effort with which he kept his anger under
control. 'I thank ye, gentles, for your news. My wife and I have ever
right gladly given food and lodging to all true servants of the Lord,
but I will not have any Quakers or Ranters creeping into my house
during my absence and nesting there, to set abroad such tales as ye
have hastened to spread before me this day. Even the wisest woman is
but a woman still, and the sooner I reach home the better.' So saying
he raised his hat, and set spurs to his horse. But little Mr. Justice
Sawrey, edging out of the group officiously, set spurs to his own
horse and trotted after him. Laying a restraining hand on his fellow
Justice's bridle, 'One moment more!' he entreated. ''Tis best you
should know all ere you return. Not only at Swarthmoor, at Ulverston
church also, hath this pestilential fellow caused a disturbance. It
was on the Saturday that he arrived at Swarthmoor Hall, and violently
brawled with our good Friend Lampitt during Mistress Fell's absence
from home.'

A shade of relief crossed the Judge's face, 'My wife absent! I might
have sworn to it. The maidens are too young to have sober judgment.'
'Nay, but listen,' continued Sawrey, 'the day after he came to the
Hall was not only the Sabbath but also a day of public humiliation.
Our good Priest Lampitt, seeing Mistress Fell surrounded by her family
in the pew at church, trusted, as did we all, that she had sent the
fellow packing speedily about his business. Alack! no such thing, he
was but prowling outside. No sooner did the congregation sing a hymn
than in he came, and boldly standing on a form, asked leave to speak.
Our worthy Priest, the soul of courtesy, consented. Then, oh! the
tedious discourse that fell on our ears, how that the hymn we had sung
was entirely unsuited to our condition, with much talk of Moses and of
John, and I know not what besides, ending up in no less a place than
the Paradise of God! Naturally, none of us, gentles, paid much
attention. I crossed my legs and tr