"I do, indeed," replied Jack, seriously.
"What? Wear baggy breeches, and an enormous turban, and slippers turned up at the toes! What would the natives say?"
"Why, they'd say you were a very sensible individual," remarked Harry. "Don't you remember the old saying?—'When you're in Turkey, you must do as Turkey does.'"
Mr. Figgins reflected for a moment.
"And you really think if I were to go in, for a regular Turkish fit-out, I should be allowed to enjoy my walks in peace?" he asked, at length.
"Decidedly," answered his counsellors, with the utmost gravity.
"Then I'll take your advice, and be a Turk until further notice," said the orphan; "but there's one thing still."
"What's that?"
"My complexion isn't near dark enough for one of these infidels."
"Oh, that won't matter," said Jack; "only slip into the Turkish togs. Go in for any quantity of turban, and they won't care a button about your complexion."