_Nora_ (_putting her arms round her neck_). Dear old Anne, you were a good mother to me when I was little. _Nurse_. Little Nora, poor dear, had no other mother but me. _Nora_. And if my little ones had no other mother, I am sure you would--What nonsense I am talking! (_Opens the box._) Go in to them. Now I must--. You will see tomorrow how charming I shall look. _Nurse_. I am sure there will be no one at the ball so charming as you, ma'am. (_Goes into the room on the left._) _Nora_ (_begins to unpack the box, but soon pushes it away from her_). If only I dared go out. If only no one would come. If only I could be sure nothing would happen here in the meantime. Stuff and nonsense! No one will come. Only I mustn't think about it. I will brush my muff. What lovely, lovely gloves! Out of my thoughts, out of my thoughts! One, two, three, four, five, six--(_Screams._) Ah! there is someone coming--. (_Makes a movement towards the door, but stands irresolute_.) (_Enter_ MRS. LINDE _from the hall, where she has taken off her cloak and hat_.) _Nora_. Oh, it's you, Christine. There is no one else out there, is there? How good of you to come! _Mrs. Linde_. I heard you were up asking for me. _Nora_. Yes, I was passing by. As a matter of fact, it is something you could help me with. Let us sit down here on the sofa. Look here. Tomorrow evening there is to be a fancy-dress ball at the Stenborgs', who live above us; and Torvald wants me to go as a Neapolitan fisher-girl, and dance the Tarantella that I learnt at Capri. _Mrs. Linde_. I see; you are going to keep up the character. _Nora_. Yes, Torvald wants me to. Look, here is the dress; Torvald had it made for me there, but now it is all so torn, and I haven't any idea-- _Mrs. Linde_. We will easily put that right. It is only some of the trimming come unsewn here and there. Needle and thread? Now then, that's all we want. _Nora_. It _is_ nice of you. _Mrs. Linde_ (_sewing_). So you are going to be dressed up tomorrow, Nora. I will tell you what--I shall come in for a moment and see you in your fine feathers. But I have completely forgotten to thank you for a delightful evening yesterday. _Nora_ (_gets up, and crosses the stage_). Well I don't think yesterday was as pleasant as usual. You ought to have come to town a little earlier, Christine. Certainly Torvald does understand how to make a house dainty and attractive. _Mrs. Linde_. And so do you, it seems to me; you are not your father's daughter for nothing. But tell me, is Doctor Rank always as depressed as he was yesterday? _Nora_. No; yesterday it was very noticeable. I must tell you that he suffers from a _very_ dangerous disease. He has consumption of the spine, poor creature. His father was a horrible man who committed all sorts of excesses; and that is why his son was sickly from childhood, do you understand? _Mrs. Linde_ (_dropping her sewing_). But, my dearest Nora, how do you know anything about such things?