She was the type of old nannies, who, not having their own family, wholly attached to the family of their nurslings, to whom they gave not only care for a salary but sincerely warm love. I remember her rather bulky figure, I remember a purely Russian, (and maybe even somewhat foreign type) ugly face with high cheekbones and small black eyes and black and gray hair combed under the cap <. .> Her help was, first of all, purely physical, and then it was expressed in great devotion to her nurslings, and to the whole family. Nanny did not, of course, have a part to play in the upbringing. Here she fully obeyed our mother. Nanny would come in with a tray, covered with a crisp white napkin, and look at everybody from under her shaggy, overgrown eyebrows. She would look stern, then smile so that dimples appeared on her cheeks and say her favorite saying: ‘Eat, my darlings, pancakes.