MRS. PEARCE. Stop, Mr. Higgins. I won't allow it. It's you that are

wicked. Go home to your parents, girl; and tell them to take better

care of you.

LIZA. I ain't got no parents. They told me I was big enough to earn my

own living and turned me out.

MRS. PEARCE. Where's your mother?

LIZA. I ain't got no mother. Her that turned me out was my sixth

stepmother. But I done without them. And I'm a good girl, I am.

HIGGINS. Very well, then, what on earth is all this fuss about? The

girl doesn't belong to anybody--is no use to anybody but me. [He goes

to Mrs. Pearce and begins coaxing]. You can adopt her, Mrs. Pearce: I'm

sure a daughter would be a great amusement to you. Now don't make any

more fuss. Take her downstairs; and--

MRS. PEARCE. But what's to become of her? Is she to be paid anything?

Do be sensible, sir.

HIGGINS. Oh, pay her whatever is necessary: put it down in the

housekeeping book. [Impatiently] What on earth will she want with

money? She'll have her food and her clothes. She'll only drink if you

give her money.

LIZA [turning on him] Oh you are a brute. It's a lie: nobody ever saw

the sign of liquor on me. [She goes back to her chair and plants

herself there defiantly].

PICKERING [in good-humored remonstrance] Does it occur to you, Higgins,

that the girl has some feelings?

HIGGINS [looking critically at her] Oh no, I don't think so. Not any

feelings that we need bother about. [Cheerily] Have you, Eliza?

LIZA. I got my feelings same as anyone else.

HIGGINS [to Pickering, reflectively] You see the difficulty?

PICKERING. Eh? What difficulty?

HIGGINS. To get her to talk grammar. The mere pronunciation is easy

enough.

LIZA. I don't want to talk grammar. I want to talk like a lady.

MRS. PEARCE. Will you please keep to the point, Mr. Higgins. I want to

know on what terms the girl is to be here. Is she to have any wages?

And what is to become of her when you've finished your teaching? You

must look ahead a little.

HIGGINS [impatiently] What's to become of her if I leave her in the

gutter? Tell me that, Mrs. Pearce.

MRS. PEARCE. That's her own business, not yours, Mr. Higgins.

HIGGINS. Well, when I've done with her, we can throw her back into the

gutter; and then it will be her own business again; so that's all right.

LIZA. Oh, you've no feeling heart in you: you don't care for nothing

but yourself [she rises and takes the floor resolutely]. Here! I've had

enough of this. I'm going [making for the door]. You ought to be

ashamed of yourself, you ought.




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