Helmer.  Then you may be away some little time?  And what’s to become of me and the eggs meanwhile?

Nora.  That, TORVALD, is entirely your own affair.  I have a higher duty than that towards you and the eggs. (Looking solemnly upward.) I mean my duty towards Myself!

Helmer.  And all this because—­in a momentary annoyance at finding myself in the power of a discharged Cashier who calls me “I say TORVALD,” I expressed myself with ultra-Gilbertian frankness!  You talk like a silly child!

Nora.  Because my eyes are opened, and I see my position with the eyes of IBSEN.  I must go away at once, and begin to educate myself.

Helmer.  May I ask how you are going to set about it?

Nora.  Certainly.  I shall begin—­yes, I shall begin with a course of the Norwegian theatres.  If that doesn’t take the frivolity out of me, I don’t really know what will! [She gets her bonnet and ties it tightly.

Helmer.  Then you are really going?  And you’ll never think about me and the eggs any more!  Oh, NORA!

Nora.  Indeed, I shall, occasionally—­as strangers. (She puts on a shawl sadly, and fetches her dressing-bag.) If I ever do come back, the greatest miracle of all will have to happen.  Good-bye! [She goes out through the hall; the front-door is heard to bang loudly.

Helmer (sinking on a chair).  The room empty?  Then she must be gone!  Yes, my little lark has flown! (The dull sound of an unskilled latchkey is heard trying the lock; presently the door opens, and Nora, with a somewhat foolish expression, reappears.) What? back already!  Then you are educated?

Nora (puts down dressing-bag).  No, TORVALD, not yet.  Only, you see, I found I had only threepence-halfpenny in my purse, and the Norwegian theatres are all closed at this hour—­and so I thought I wouldn’t leave the cage till to-morrow—­after breakfast.

Helmer (as if to himself).  The greatest miracle of all has happened.  My little bird is not in the bush just yet!

[NORA takes down a showily bound dictionary from the shelf and begins her education; HELMER fetches a bag of macaroons, sits near her, and tenders one humbly.  A pause.  NORA repulses it, proudly.  He offers it again.  She snatches at it suddenly, still without looking at him, and nibbles it thoughtfully as Curtain falls.

THE END (with Mr. Punch’s apologies to the Master).

* * * * *

MODERN TYPES.

(BY MR. PUNCH’S OWN TYPE WRITER.)

NO.  XXIV.—­THE GIVER OF PARTIES.

[Illustration]