Bless the Bride

I would be struck down by the Almighty as I stepped out into the balmy night air. I was also sure that I looked like a complete fake until the police constable on the corner saluted me and said, “God bless you, Sister.”
    Then, of course, I grinned to myself for the next four blocks.
    A man jumped up to offer me a seat on the El. People stepped aside for me on the stairs and others murmured, “God bless you, Sister.” I could see this was a disguise that would prove useful in the future—until I remembered there wasn’t going to be a future in this profession.
    Mott Street was more lively than I had seen it during the day. The restaurants were doing a roaring trade and interesting odors wafted out into the street—frying oil and sweet spices, not at all unappetizing. From an open door came the sounds of strange music—a voice singing in a high, tuneless manner against a background of screeching strings. Not what we’d call musical, but it appeared that the place was packed. I could see men standing just inside the doorway. I also noticed figures slinking into the alleyways between buildings and wondered if they were going to the famous gambling parlors and opium dens. I was interested to note that not all the evening revelers on Mott Street were Chinese; a young American couple was waiting in line for a table at one of the restaurants—the Port Arthur, it was called, and I wondered about the origin of the name. Then I saw a distinctly Western form slinking into one of those alleyways, heading for the opium den, I presumed.
    The crowd on Mott Street streamed past me, giving me a wide berth. My hopes rose for accomplishing this successfully. I reached the back door of the rectory and tapped lightly. Mrs. McNamara opened it. “Can I help you, Sister?” she asked. “Father Barry is occupied at the moment.”
    “Mrs. McNamara, it’s me, Molly Murphy,” I said.
    “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she exclaimed and crossed herself. “Whatever next? Well, I certainly wouldn’t have recognized you. Come on in. Himself is just having his supper,” she said. “He won’t notice a thing while he’s eating.”
    Up the stairs we went. Bo Kei looked amazed and delighted when a nun came into the room, then even more excited when she realized it was I. I showed her I had brought her a similar costume. I helped her into it and a few minutes later two nuns came out of the church rectory and melted into the Italian crowd on Park Street. Then it was an easy walk through the noisy Italian streets to the house on Elizabeth.
    Hermione was still on duty. “Well, I never,” she said when she saw us, and burst out laughing. “Come in, do.” She whisked us inside and shut the door behind us. “Come on through to the kitchen and I’ll make us some tea.”
    “I presume that Sarah came by and warned you about this,” I said.
    “She did indeed. Welcome.” She held out her hand to the frightened girl. “You’ll be safe here. And I expect you’d like to get out of that nun’s habit. If you take a look in that closet you’ll find some clothing that will fit you. Help yourself. And I’ll go and make us some tea.”
    I followed Hermione down the hall.
    “I hope you don’t mind keeping Bo Kei here at least for a few days?” I asked.
    “We’re not about to turn her out onto the streets,” Hermione said, then lowered her voice, “but let’s just hope that nobody finds out she’s here. I don’t particularly want to find our house firebombed or our staff with their throats cut.”
    “I know I’m asking you to take a big risk,” I said. “I’d take her in myself but my future bridegroom is putting the finishing touches to my house, and he must not find out that I’m doing this.”
    “I quite understand,” she said. “Sarah Lindley is having the same problems with a bossy bridegroom.”
    “She is. I gather he came here today. Sarah was most embarrassed.”
    Hermione shook her head. “No, we haven’t seen him today. Sarah thought he’d come here for some reason, but he hadn’t.”
    “But I saw him on Bayard Street, just around the corner, so I assumed he’d come to escort Sarah. She was worried he’d come to tell you in person that he’d forbidden her to come here anymore.”
    “I don’t know why he’d need to come in person after he already wrote us a letter,” Hermione said. “I hope he wasn’t spying on her to make sure she hadn’t come here.”
    “A letter?”
    She went across to a bureau