At this time Dr. Botkin, Mother’s physician, who was ill, requested permission to have his children come aboard our yacht. Mother replied that they could come as often as they wished during their father’s convalescence. I heard that the sick should not be forsaken. I, as a good Samaritan, did my part by visiting the doctor every day, sitting at the edge of his couch with my folded hands, like those of an old lady, wishing to entertain him. We were all very fond of him. He had a wonderful gift of story telling, and after taking in every word I flew like a bullet to tell Marie and Alexei every detail of our conversation, often embellishing it to add more zest to the story. At home I used to wait for him in the room next to Mother’s bedroom. I knew he had to pass this room after he finished her examination. I stopped him and opened my heart to him with my childish problems. He asked me all kinds of questions, and in turn I received from him first hand information about his family. I always carried scraps of paper in my hand. Asking him for his pencil, I scribbled down some kind of curly-cues for my record. We were so excited when we heard that his two children, Tatiana and Gleb, were coming to visit their father. Dr. Botkin had told us so much about his children that we felt we knew them. At first Gleb was shy and Tatiana excited, but soon we all got acquainted and had a hilarious time. My older sisters left the newcomers to us younger ones. I remember hiding from Tatiana behind a drapery. Dr. Botkin was resting on a couch and kept saying: “I see you, Anastasia,” since my shoes were clearly visible protruding underneath the drapery. I did not answer him. Finally Tatiana pushed aside the curtain expecting to find me there, but all she found were my shoes. I had left them there and moved to another hiding place. Dr. Botkin was so understanding in the way he got into the spirit of our games. In my eagerness for his children to have a good time, I asked him confidentially what I could do to make his family happy. He replied, “Just being with you is the greatest pleasure you can give.” His children called him “Papula,” and I too appropriated that as my pet name for him. In Ekaterinburg, when times were sad, I often said: “Cheer up, Papula; all will be right.” In Tsarskoe Selo, we girls had little opportunity to play with anyone from outside except occasionally with our cousins.