PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Vol. 100.

April 4, 1891.

MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN.

(Condensed and Revised Version by Mr. P.'s Own Harmless Ibsenite.)

No. II.-NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE (ET DIKKISVÖIT).

ACT I.

A Room tastefully filled with cheap Art-furniture. Gimcracks in an étagère; a festoon of chenille monkeys hanging from the gaselier. Japanese fans, skeletons, cotton-wool spiders, frogs, and lizards, scattered everywhere about. Drain-pipes with tall dyed grasses. A porcelain stove decorated with transferable pictures. Showily-bound books in book-case. Window. The Visitors' bell rings in the hall outside. The hall-door is heard to open, and then to shut. Presently NORA walks in with parcels; a Porter carries a large Christmas-tree after her—which he puts down. NORA gives him a shilling—and he goes out grumbling. NORA hums contentedly, and eats macaroons. Then HELMER puts his head out of his Manager's room, and NORA hides macaroons cautiously.

Helmer (playfully). Is that my little squirrel twittering—that my lark frisking in here?

Nora. Ess! (To herself.) I have only been married eight years, so these marital amenities have not yet had time to pall!

"Boo!"

Helmer (threatening with his finger). I hope the little bird has surely not been digging its beak into any macaroons, eh?

Nora (bolting one, and wiping her mouth). No, most certainly not. (To herself.) The worst of being so babyish is—one does have to tell such a lot of taradiddles! (To H.) See what I've bought—it's been such fun!

[Hums.

Helmer (inspecting parcels). H'm—rather an expensive little lark!

[Takes her playfully by the ear.

Nora. Little birds like to have a flutter occasionally. Which reminds me—(Plays with his coat-buttons.) I'm such a simple ickle sing—but if you are thinking of giving me a Christmas present, make it cash.

Helmer. Just like your poor father, he always asked me to make it cash—he never made any himself! It's heredity, I suppose. Well—well!

[Goes back to his Bank. NORA goes on humming.

Enter Mrs. LINDEN, doubtfully.

Nora. What, CHRISTINA—why, how old you look! But then you are poor. I'm not. TORVALD has just been made a Bank Manager. (Tidies the room.) Isn't it really wonderfully delicious to be well off? But, of course, you wouldn't know. We were poor once, and, do you know, when TORVALD was ill, I—(tossing her head)—though I am such a frivolous little squirrel, and all that, I actually borrowed £300 for him to go abroad. Wasn't that clever? Tra-la-la! I shan't tell you who lent it. I didn't even tell TORVALD. I am such a mere baby I don't tell him everything. I tell Dr. RANK, though. Oh, I'm so awfully happy I should like to shout, "Dash it all!"

Mrs. Linden (stroking her hair). Do—it is a natural and innocent outburst—you are such a child! But I am a widow, and want employment. Do you think your husband could find me a place as clerk in his Bank? (Proudly.) I am an excellent knitter!

Nora. That would really be awfully funny. (To HELMER, who enters.) TORVALD, this is CHRISTINA; she wants to be a clerk in your Bank—do let her! She thinks such a lot of you. (To herself.) Another taradiddle!

Helmer. She is a sensible woman, and deserves encouragement. Come along, Mrs. LINDEN, and we'll see what we can do for you.

[He goes out through the hall with Mrs. L., and the front-door is heard to slam after them.

Nora (opens door, and calls). Now, EMMY, IVAR, and BOB, come in and have a romp with Mamma—we will play hide-and-seek. (She gets under the table, smiling in quiet satisfaction; KROGSTAD enters—NORA pounces out upon him). Boo!... Oh, I beg your pardon. I don't do this kind of thing generally—though I may be a little silly!

Krogstad (politely). Don't mention it. I called because I happened to see your husband go out with MRS. LINDEN—from which, being a person of considerable penetration, I infer that he is about to give her my post at the Bank. Now, as you owe me the balance of £300, for which I hold your acknowledgment, you will see the propriety of putting a stop to this little game at once.

Nora. But I don't at all—not a little wee bit! I'm so childish, you know—why should I? [Sitting upright on carpet.

Krogs. I will try to make it plain to the meanest capacity. When you came to me for the loan, I naturally required some additional security. Your father, being a shady Government official, without a penny—for, if he had possessed one, he would, presumably, have left it to you—without a penny, then, I, as a cautious man of business, insisted upon having his signature as a surety. Oh, we Norwegians are sharp fellows!

Nora. Well, you got Papa's signature, didn't you?

Krogs. Oh, I got it right enough. Unfortunately, it was dated three days after his decease—now, how do you account for that?

Nora. How? Why, as poor Papa was dead, and couldn't sign, I signed for him, that's all! Only somehow I forgot to put the date back. That's how. Didn't I tell you I was a silly, unbusinesslike little thing? It's very simple.

Krogs. Very—but what you did amounts to forgery, notwithstanding. I happen to know, because I'm a lawyer, and have done a little in the forging way myself. So, to come to the point—if I get kicked out, I shall not go alone! [He bows, and goes out.

Nora. It can't be wrong! Why no one but KROGSTAD would have been taken in by it! If the Law says it's wrong, the Law's a goose—a bigger goose than poor little me even! (To HELMER, who enters.) Oh, TORVALD, how you made me jump!

Helmer. Has anybody called? (NORA shakes her head.) Oh, my little squirrel mustn't tell naughty whoppers! Why, I just met that fellow KROGSTAD in the hall. He's been asking you to get me to take him back—now, hasn't he?

Nora (walking about). Do just see how pretty the Christmas-tree looks!

Helmer. Never mind the tree—I want to have this out about KROGSTAD. I can't take him back, because many years ago he forged a name. As a lawyer, a close observer of human nature, and a Bank Manager, I have remarked that people who forge names seldom or never confide the fact to their children—which inevitably brings moral contagion into the entire family. From which it follows, logically, that KROGSTAD has been poisoning his children for years by acting a part, and is morally lost. (Stretches out his hands to her.) I can't bear a morally lost Bank-cashier about me!

Nora. But you never thought of dismissing him till CHRISTINA came!

Helmer. H'm! I've got some business to attend to—so good-bye, little lark! [Goes into office and shuts door.

Nora (pale with terror). If KROGSTAD poisons his children