She handed the bottle to Liza, who took a mouthful and gave it her back; she had a drink herself, and smacked her lips.
'Thet's good stuff. 'Ave a drop more.'
'Na,' said Liza, 'I ain't used ter drinkin' spirits.'
She felt dull and miserable, and a heavy pain throbbed through her head. If she could only forget!
'Na, I know you're not, but, bless your soul, thet won' 'urt yer. It'll do you no end of good. Why, often when I've been feelin' thet done up thet I didn't know wot ter do with myself, I've just 'ad a little drop of whisky or gin—I'm not partic'ler wot spirit it is—an' it's pulled me up wonderful.'
Liza took another sip, a slightly longer one; it burnt as it went down her throat, and sent through her a feeling of comfortable warmth.
'I really do think it's doin' me good,' she said, wiping her eyes and giving a sigh of relief as the crying ceased.
'I knew it would. Tike my word for it, if people took a little drop of spirits in time, there'd be much less sickness abaht.'
They sat for a while in silence, then Mrs. Kemp remarked:
'Yer know, Liza, it strikes me as 'ow we could do with a drop more. You not bein' in the 'abit of tikin' anythin' I only brought just this little drop for me; an' it ain't took us long ter finish thet up. But as you're an invalid like we'll git a little more this time; it's sure ter turn aht useful.'