little lark, _what_ you must have gone through! Come under my wing,
my little scared song-bird.... Eh? you _won't!_ Why, what's the matter
_now_?

_Nora_ (_with cold calm_). I have wings of my own, thank you, TORVALD,
and I mean to use them!

_Helmer_. What--leave your pretty cage, and (_pathetically_) the old
cock bird, and the poor little innocent eggs!

_Nora_. Exactly. Sit down, and we will talk it over first. (_Slowly._)
Has it ever struck you that this is the first time you and I have ever
talked seriously together about serious things?

_Helmer_. Come, I do like that! How on earth could we talk about
serious things when your mouth was always full of macaroons?

_Nora_ (_shakes her head_). Ah, TORVALD, the mouth of a mother of a
family should have more solemn things in it than macaroons! I see
that now, too late. No, you have wronged me. So did Papa. Both of
you called me a doll, and a squirrel, and a lark! You might have made
something of me--and instead of that, you went and made too much of
me--oh, you _did_!

_Helmer_. Well, you didn't seem to object to it, and really I don't
exactly see what it is you _do_ want!

_Nora_. No more do I--that is what I have got to find out. If I had
been properly educated, I should have known better than to date
poor Papa's signature three days after he died. Now I must educate