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 because he once forged a name, I must be poisoning EMMY, and BOB, and IVAR, because I forged Papa's signature! (Short pause; she raises her head proudly.) After all, if I am a doll, I can still draw a logical induction! I mustn't play with the children any more—(hotly)—I don't care—I shall, though! Who cares for KROGSTAD?
[She makes a face, choking with suppressed tears, as Curtain falls.
N.B.—The tremendous psychological problem of whether NORA is as much of a doll, a squirrel, and a lark, as she seems, and if so, whether it is her own fault, or HELMER's or Society's, will be solved in subsequent numbers.
BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.—At last by the authority of the L.C.C. his Grace of BEDFORD has been notified that within three months from now "Locks, bolts, and bars must fly asunder" in the parish of St. Pancras, where henceforth existence of all such obstruction is to cease. We hope that the gate-keepers, whose occupation is gone, have been amply provided for, as they will now have no gates, but only themselves to keep. Mr. Punch has persistently advocated the reform. And now, Gentlemen, how about Mud Salad Market, which, like Scotland in Macbeth's time, "stands where it did"?
