Even within the sheltering walls of Swarthmoor, this time persecution followed. Justice Sawrey had not yet forgiven the Quaker for his behaviour on the day of the riot. He must have further punishment. So right up to Swarthmoor itself came constables with a warrant signed by two Justices (Sawrey of course being one of them), that a certain man named George Fox was to be apprehended as a disturber of the peace. And clapped into gaol George Fox would have been, wounded and bruised as he was, in spite of all that his gentle hostesses could do to prevent it, had it not happened that, just as the constables arrived to execute this order, the master of the house, good Judge Fell himself, must needs return once more, in the very nick of time, home to Swarthmoor. His mere presence was a defence. He had been away again on circuit all this time that George Fox had been so cruelly treated in the neighbourhood, and had therefore known nothing of the rioting during his absence. Now that he was back at home again, straightway everything went well. The roof seemed to grow all at once more sheltering, the walls of the old hall to become thicker and more able to protect its inmates, when once the master of the house was safely at home once more. The six girls ran up and down stairs more lightly, smiling with relief whenever they met each other in the rooms and passages. Long afterwards, in the troubled years that were to follow, when there was no indulgent father to protect them and their mother and their friends from the bitter blast of persecution, many a time did the maidens of Swarthmoor recall that day. They remembered how, weeping, they had run down to the high arched gate of the orchard to meet their father, and to tell him what was a-doing up at the Hall. Thus they drew near the house, the Judge's dark figure half hidden among his muslined maidens, even as the dark old yews are hidden in spring by the snowy-blossomed apple-trees. When they saw the Judge himself coming towards them, the constables drawn up in the courtyard began to look mighty foolish. They approached with gestures of respect, giving a short account of what had happened at Walney, and holding out the warrant, signed by two justices, as an apology for their presence at Judge Fell's own Hall during his absence. All their excuses availed them little. Judge Fell could look stern enough when he chose, and now his eyes flashed at this invasion of his home.