"No, nor drink. And Mr. Bender, he was the fust to go, and then Indian Pete, and then Mrs. McGregor, and then Johnny Hones, and then, dearie, your mother.""Then mother's a deader too," cried the little girl, dropping her face in her pinafore and sobbing bitterly."Yes, they all went except you and me...
1887, Arthur Conan Doyle, A Study in Scarlet