MRS. LINDE.
How kind you are, Nora, to be so anxious to help me! It is doubly kind in you, for you know so little of the burdens and troubles of life.
NORA.
I — ? I know so little of them?
MRS. LINDE.
(smiling). My dear! Small household cares and that sort of thing! — You are a child, Nora.
NORA.
(tosses her head and crosses the stage). You ought not to be so superior.
MRS. LINDE.
No?
NORA.
You are just like all the others. They all think that I am incapable of anything really serious —
MRS. LINDE.
Come, come —
NORA.
— that I have gone through nothing in this world of cares.
MRS. LINDE.
But, my dear Nora, you have just told me all your troubles.
NORA.
Pooh! — those were trifles. (Lowering her voice.) I have not told you the important thing.
MRS. LINDE.
The important thing? What do you mean?
NORA.
You look down upon me altogether, Christine — but you ought not to. You are proud, aren't you, of having-worked so hard and so long for your mother?
