[The Porter thanks her and goes. Nora shuts the door. She continues smiling in quiet glee as she takes off her outdoor things. Taking from her pocket a bag of macaroons, she eats one or two. Then she goes on tip-toe to her husband’s door and listens.
Nora.
Yes; he is at home.
[She begins humming again, crossing to the table on the right.
Helmer.
[In his room.] Is that my lark twittering there?
Nora.
[Busy opening some of her parcels.] Yes, it is.
Helmer.
Is it the squirrel frisking around?