Krogs. I am wildly happy!  Engaged to the female Cashier of the Manager who has discharged me, our future is bright and secure!

[He goes out; and Mrs. LINDEN sets the furniture straight; presently a noise is heard outside, and HELMER enters, dragging NORA in.  She is in fancy dress, and he in an open black domino._

Nora.  I shan’t!  It’s too early to come away from such a nice party.  I won’t go to bed! [She whimpers.

Helmer (tenderly).  There’sh a naughty lil’ larkie for you, Mrs. LINEN!  Poshtively had to drag her ‘way!  She’sh a capricious lil’ girl—­from Capri.  ‘Scuse me!—­’fraid I’ve been and made a pun.  Shan’ ’cur again!  Shplendid champagne the Consul gave us—­’counts for it! (Sits down, smiling.) Do you knit, Mrs. COTTON?...  You shouldn’t.  Never knit.  ’Broider. (Nodding to her, solemnly.) ’Member that.  Alwaysh ’broider.  More—­(hiccoughing)—­Oriental!  Gobblesh you!—­goo’ni!

Mrs. Linden.  I only came in to—­to see NORA’s costume.  Now I’ve seen it, I’ll go. [Goes out.

Helmer.  Awful bore that woman—­hate boresh! (Looks at NORA, then comes nearer.) Oh, you prillil squillikins, I do love you so!  Shomehow, I feel sho lively thishevenin’!

Nora (goes to other side of table).  I won’t have all that, TORVALD!

Helmer.  Why? ain’t you my lil’ lark—­ain’t thish our lil’ cage?  Ver-well, then. (A ring.) RANK! confound it all! (Enter Dr. RANK.) RANK, dear old boy, you’ve been (hiccoughs) going it upstairs.  Cap’tal champagne, eh? ’Shamed of you, RANK! [He sits down on sofa, and closes his eyes gently.

Rank.  Did you notice it? (with pride).  It was almost incredible the amount I contrived to put away.  But I shall suffer for it to-morrow (gloomily).  Heredity again!  I wish I was dead!  I do.

Nora.  Don’t apologise.  TORVALD was just as bad; but he is always so good-tempered after champagne.

Rank.  Ah, well, I just looked in to say that I haven’t long to live.  Don’t weep for me, Mrs. HELMER, it’s chronic—­and hereditary too.  Here are my P.P.C. cards.  I’m a fading flower.  Can you oblige me with a cigar?

Nora (with a suppressed smile).  Certainly.  Let me give you a light?

    [RANK lights his cigar, after several ineffectual attempts,
    and goes out.

Helmer (compassionately).  Poo’ old RANK—­he’sh very bad to-ni’! (Pulls himself together.) But I forgot—­Bishness—­I mean, bu-si-ness—­mush be ’tended to.  I’ll go and see if there are any letters. (Goes to box.) Hallo! someone’s been at the lock with a hairpin—­it’s one of your hairpins! [Holding it out to her.

Nora (quickly).  Not mine—­one of BOB’s, or IVAR’s—­they both wear hairpins!