H. A. Cody 
The Touch of Abner 

‘Put me down fer a thousand.’ These words drawled slowly forth produced an immediate effect, and caused fifty people to straighten suddenly up and look enquiringly around. The reporter of The Live Wire gave one lightning glance toward the speaker, and then began to write rapidly upon his pad lying before him. The chairman, too, was visibly affected. He leaned forward, and searched the room with his small squinting eyes. ‘Did I hear aright?’ he asked. ‘Did someone say ‘a thousand?» At once a man in the back row started to rise, but was pulled quickly down by a woman sitting at his side. ‘Let go my coat-tails, Tildy, ‘ he whispered. ‘But, Abner, are you crazy?’ ‘Crazy, be hanged! Leave me alone, can’t ye?’ ‘Oh, it’s you, Mr. Andrews, is it?’ the chairman remarked. ‘Yes, it’s me all right.’ ‘And you wish to give one thousand dollars?’ ‘That’s what I said.’ ‘Well, then, will you please step forward and sign your name?’ ‘Oh, that feller waggin’ the pen kin do it better’n me. Jist tell him to put Abner Andrews, of Ash Pint, down fer a thousand.’