Yes, light fancy work: crochet, and embroidery, and things of that sort; [_Carelessly_] and other work too. You know, of course, that Torvald left the Government service when we were married. He had little chance of promotion, and of course he required to make more money. But in the first year after our marriage he overworked himself terribly. He had to undertake all sorts of extra work, you know, and to slave early and late. He couldn’t stand it, and fell dangerously ill. Then the doctors declared he must go to the South. MRS. LINDEN. You spent a whole year in Italy, didn’t you? NORA. Yes, we did. It wasn’t easy to manage, I can tell you. It was just after Ivar’s birth. But of course we had to go. Oh, it was a wonderful, delicious journey! And it saved Torvald’s life. But it cost a frightful lot of money, Christina. MRS. LINDEN. So I should think. NORA. Twelve hundred dollars! Four thousand eight hundred crowns![7] Isn’t that a lot of money? MRS. LINDEN. How lucky you had the money to spend! NORA. We got it from father, you must know. MRS. LINDEN. Ah, I see. He died just about that time, didn’t he? NORA. Yes, Christina, just then. And only think! I couldn’t go and nurse him! I was expecting little Ivar’s birth daily; and then I had my poor sick Torvald to attend to. Dear, kind old father! I never saw him again, Christina. Oh! that’s the hardest thing I have had to bear since my marriage. MRS. LINDEN. I know how fond you were of him. But then you went to Italy? NORA. Yes; you see, we had the money, and the doctors said we must lose no time. We started a month later. MRS. LINDEN. And your husband came back completely cured. NORA. Sound as a bell. MRS. LINDEN. But—the doctor? NORA. What do you mean? MRS. LINDEN. I thought as I came in your servant announced the doctor—— NORA.