Punch, Or The London Charivari

昲Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 100, April 4, 1891

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April 4, 1891, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Punch, Or The London Charivari, Vol. 100, April 4, 1891
Author: Various
Release Date: August 26, 2004 [EBook #13297]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
VOL. 100.

April 4, 1891.

MR. PUNCH'S POCKET IBSEN.
(_CONDENSED AND REVISED VERSION BY MR. P.'S OWN HARMLESS IBSENITE._)
NO. II.-NORA; OR, THE BIRD-CAGE (ET DIKKISV?IT).
ACT I.
_A Room tastefully filled with cheap Art-furniture. Gimcracks in an étagère; a festoon of chenille monkeys hanging from the gaselier. Japanese fans, skeletons, cotton-wool spiders, frogs, and lizards, scattered everywhere about. Drain-pipes with tall dyed grasses. A porcelain stove decorated with transferable pictures. Showily-bound books in book-case. Window. The Visitors' bell rings in the hall outside. The hall-door is heard to open, and then to shut. Presently NORA walks in with parcels; a Porter carries a large Christmas-tree after her--which he puts down. NORA gives him a shilling--and he goes out grumbling. NORA hums contentedly, and eats macaroons. Then HELMER puts his head out of his Manager's room, and NORA hides macaroons cautiously._
Helmer (_playfully_). Is that my little squirrel twittering--that my lark frisking in here?
Nora. Ess! (_To herself._) I have only been married eight years, so these marital amenities have not yet had time to pall!
[Illustration: "Boo!"]
Helmer (_threatening with his finger_). I hope the little bird has surely not been digging its beak into any macaroons, eh?
Nora (_bolting one, and wiping her mouth_). No, most certainly not. (To herself.) The worst of being so babyish is--one does have to tell such a lot of taradiddles! (_To H._) See what _I_'ve bought--it's been such fun!
[_Hums._
Helmer (_inspecting parcels_). H'm--rather an expensive little lark!
[_Takes her playfully by the ear._
Nora. Little birds like to have a flutter occasionally. Which reminds me--(_Plays with his coat-buttons._) I'm such a simple ickle sing--but if you are thinking of giving me a Christmas present, make it cash.
Helmer. Just like your poor father, he always asked me to make it cash--he never made any himself! It's heredity, I suppose. Well--well!
[_Goes back to his Bank. NORA goes on humming._
_Enter Mrs. LINDEN, doubtfully._
Nora. What, CHRISTINA--why, how old you look! But then you are poor. I'm not. TORVALD has just been made a Bank Manager. (_Tidies the room._) Isn't it really wonderfully delicious to be well off? But, of course, you wouldn't know. We were poor once, and, do you know, when TORVALD was ill, I--(_tossing her head_)--though I am such a frivolous little squirrel, and all that, I actually borrowed ￡300 for him to go abroad. Wasn't that clever? Tra-la-la! I shan't tell you who lent it. I didn't even tell TORVALD. I am such a mere baby I don't tell him everything. I tell Dr. RANK, though. Oh, I'm so awfully happy I should like to shout, "Dash it all!"
_Mrs. Linden_ (_stroking her hair_). Do--it is a natural and innocent outburst--you are such a child! But I am a widow, and want employment. Do you think your husband could find me a place as clerk in his Bank? (_Proudly._) I am an excellent knitter!
Nora. That would really be awfully funny. (_To HELMER, who enters._) TORVALD, this is CHRISTINA; she wants to be a clerk in your Bank--do let her! She thinks such a lot of you. (_To herself._) Another taradiddle!
Helmer. She is a sensible woman, and deserves encouragement. Come along, Mrs. LINDEN, and we'll see what we can do for you.
[_He goes out through the hall with Mrs. L., and the front-door is heard to slam after them._
Nora (_opens door, and calls_). Now, EMMY, IVAR, and BOB, come in and have a romp with Mamma--we will play hide-and-seek. (_She gets under the table, smiling in quiet satisfaction; KROGSTAD enters--NORA pounces out upon him_). Boo!... Oh, I beg your pardon. I don't do this kind of thing _generally_--though I may be a little silly!
Krogstad (_politely_). Don't mention it. I called because I happened to see your husband go out with MRS. LINDEN--from which, being a person of considerable penetration, I infer that he is about to give her my post at the Bank. Now, as you owe me the balance of ￡300, for which I hold your acknowledgment, you will see the propriety of putting a stop to this little game at once.
Nora. But I don't at all--not a little wee bit! I'm so childish, you know--why should I? [_Sitting upright on carpet._
_Krogs._ I will try to make