"I did not know what I was doing," he went on. "I—I hope we can go back to where we were. No," as she made a gesture of denial, "hear me out. I didn't mean what I said about the debt and mortgages—you know I did not. Let the mortgages run. And two of your father's notes are overdue. Look, I have written another to supersede them all, giving time for payment. Let him sign this, and I destroy the others. Will you tell him this?" He held out the note.
Her eyes glowed as she took it. "Have you a pen?" He drew out a fountain pen and gave it to her.
"What are you doing?" asked Beth, alarmed.
"I will sign it," Judith answered.
"You?" Ellis cried.
"My father is dead," she replied. Quickly she went to the table and cleared a space at its corner.
"Judith!" protested Beth. But Judith's eyes were bright with excitement, and she did not hear. Beth turned and sped into the adjoining room. Astonished, yet holding himself quiet, Ellis listened to the scratching of the pen, and watched Judith's eager face as she signed the note. She gave it to him, with the pen.
"There!" she said, in the tone of one who has fulfilled a duty.
Then Mather entered, too late. Ellis had torn the Colonel's notes and handed them to Judith. "What have you done?" Mather cried.
She faced him proudly. "I have assumed my father's debt."