Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Volume 7).djvu/90

 Nora.

Then that's why that poor Krogstad

Helmer.

H'm.

Nora.

[Still leaning over the chair-back and slowly stroking his hair.] If you hadn't been so very busy, I should have asked you a great, great favour, Torvald.

Helmer.

What can it be? Out with it.

Nora.

Nobody has such perfect taste as you; and I should so love to look well at the fancy ball. Torvald, dear, couldn't you take me in hand, and settle what I'm to be, and arrange my costume for me?

Helmer.

Aha! So my wilful little woman is at a loss, and making signals of distress.

Nora.

Yes, please, Torvald. I can't get on without your help.

Helmer.

Well, well, I'll think it over, and we'll soon hit upon something.

Nora.

Oh, how good that is of you! [Goes to the tree again; pause.] How well the red flowers show.—Tell me, was it anything so very dreadful this Krogstad got into trouble about?