Helmer.
And I don’t wish you anything but just what you are—my own, sweet little song-bird. But I say—it strikes me you look so—so—what shall I call it?—so suspicious to-day——
Nora.
Do I?
Helmer.
You do, indeed. Look me full in the face.
Nora.
[Looking at him.] Well?
Helmer.
[Threatening with his finger.] Hasn’t the little sweet-tooth been playing pranks to-day?