Arthur Conan Doyle,
The Doings of Raffles Haw — Chapter I
(1892)
“ Robert went on sketching stolidly in his folding book, but Laura looked up from her work."I'm afraid there is nothing in the house, father," she said."Laura! Laura!" He shook his head as one more in sorrow than in anger. "You are no longer a girl, Laura; you are a woman, the manager of a household, Laura. We trust in you. We look entirely towards you. And yet you leave your poor brother Robert without any brandy, to say nothing of me, your father. Good heavens, Laura! what would your mother have said? Think of accidents, think of sudden illness, think of apoplectic fits, Laura. ”
