Eliza Doolittle: My aunt died of influenza, so they said. But it's
my belief they done the old woman in. Yes Lord love you! Why should she
die of influenza when she come through diphtheria right enough the year
before? Fairly blue with it she was. They all thought she was dead. But
my father, he kept ladling gin down her throat. Then she come to so
sudden that she bit the bowl off the spoon. Now, what would you call a
woman with that strength in her have to die of influenza, and what become
of her new straw hat that should have come to me? Somebody pinched it,
and what I say is, them that pinched it, done her in. Them she lived with
would have killed her for a hatpin, let alone a hat. And as for father
ladling the gin down her throat, it wouldn't have killed her. Not her.
Gin was as mother's milk to her. Besides, he's poured so much down his
own throat that he knew the good of it.