Impatiently they sat and waited until Dimitri had gone behind the small pavilion; then they scrambled up and hurried to tell Terry’s mother.
She was much amused at their exuberance and laughed at the serious way they had of deciding what they would wear. A simple tea on a houseboat and all this to-do!
Eventually the hour rolled around, and they set out in high spirits, Terry puffing as much with excitement as with effort as she rowed the boatful down the bay.
Once on the houseboat they were somewhat ill at ease. But Dimitri was a perfect host and with Old World courtesy succeeded in making them feel, as Arden said later, “like the visiting Czarina and her daughters.”
Tania was beautifully white and fluffy, greeting them all with a friendly “woof” and briskly wagging tail.
“Oh, a samovar!” exclaimed Arden as she sighted the polished brass urn with a dull glowing charcoal fire underneath.
“It is only to boil the water. I could have done it on the oil stove, but I thought you would like it this way,” Dimitri said, smiling.
“We are enjoying it,” Terry assured him. “Won’t you show Mother some of your pictures?” she cautiously interposed.
“They are really not worth looking at,” he replied modestly. And he seemed sincere about it, too.
“Of course they are,” Arden interrupted. “They’re lovely.”