“And for a quarter you can go up in the restaurant and see the girls dance,” said his sister Rosie; “or into the theatre to look at a representation of Mohammedan home life and adventure.  So Mr. Will Croly told me.”

“Well, I don’t know about going to the theatre,” returned Walter, “but I’d like to see their mosque with its minaret, at noon or sunset, when a real muezzin comes out and calls upon the faithful to remember Allah and give him glory.”

“He does it at sunrise too, doesn’t he?” asked Evelyn Leland.

“Yes; but we’ll never get over there in time for that.  Some of our American folks don’t know what he is about,—­not understanding his language—­and imagine that he’s selling popcorn or advertising the dance-house, or maybe calling for somebody to come and help him down.”

“How, Uncle Wal?” asked Neddie.

“With a ladder, I suppose.”

“Do they bring it to him?”

“I don’t think they have yet, Neddie; at least I haven’t heard of it.  But wouldn’t you like to go and see it all?”

“Yes; if papa will take me; and mamma will go too.”

“How many would like to go?” asked the captain, and everyone responding in favor of so doing the question was considered settled.

They set out at their usual early hour, met Harold and Herbert in the Peristyle, lingered a little in the Court of Honor, then made their way to the Turkish village, went through the booths and bazaar, making a number of purchases, looked at the mosque and heard the noon cry of the muezzin.

Then they visited an Arabian tent and the fac-simile of a house in Damascus.  In the tent there were male and female Arabs sitting cross-legged; some of them boiling coffee, or making thin wafer cakes, while others played on odd looking instruments and chanted in monotonous tones.

The party went into the house, found that it contained but one room, oblong in shape, with high ceiling, and windows just beneath the cornice.

“That would hardly do for Americans,” remarked Walter, gazing up at them, “for we could not see into the street.”

“We could go to the door, Uncle Walter,” said Elsie.

“Or have a step-ladder to carry about from one window to another,” laughed Rosie.

“I like the festooned walls, the fountain in the centre, and the thick rugs on the floors,” remarked Violet; “the hanging lamps too, and ornaments of rich woods inlaid with ivory; also the divans that look like such comfortable resting-places.”

“Yes, madame would find them pleasant to rest upon,” responded a young Turk in excellent, but quaintly intoned, English; then he went on to explain everything in the same tongue.

Their next visit was to Cairo Street, at the gate of which ten cents was asked for the admission of each one of the party; a small sum they thought, to give in payment for a sight of all that was on exhibition inside.  Having passed through the gate they found themselves in a street square, with a cafe opening into it on one side.  Entering it they sat down and looked about them.