It had taken Lefty and Cray another hour to get out of the Girls' Lodging House. Taylor argued with Mush relentlessly, and then stalked over to the Boys' Lodging House to convince Jack to give her girls a male chaperone. But in the end no one would agree to her terms, although Cray and Lefty did set off for the Irish Quarters in the company of a very good-looking boy: Anthony. Ringlets worried that he might get sick staying anywhere near the Boys' Lodging House, where some of the West Harlem boys had been clustering through the night. Race was sent to Brooklyn by Jack to trade information with Spot at the barracks, and Lefty's maternal instinct told her not to leave her son in the hands of a group of moody, tired girls. So Cray held the list of herbs Jack had given her, and Lefty held Anthony, as the two of them set off for the Irish Quarters.

It was close to midday when the three of them found Irish territory of the city. It was part of the large areas of slums that housed most of the cities immigrants, separated by ethnic groups, most of which were Jewish and German. These places were so different from Race's Little Italy, Lefty thought, as she passed slum after slum, holding her sleeve to her nose to block the smell of rotting garbage. Little Italy was hardly one of the posh neighborhoods, but it was like 5th Avenue compared to the extreme poverty of the crowded Jewish and German streets. Children were unclothed, lying the street or begging shamelessly while their gaunt parents prayed in their various languages. Filth was everywhere, screams and profanity heard from every building.

The Irish Quarter was no different in it's poverty, although the vendors various outdoor shopkeepers seemed to be a bit more plentiful and organized. The national flag was hung everywhere Cray and Lefty looked, from fire-escapes and front door, pinned to the worn shirts of the hagglers and vagrants. Lefty and Cray walked very close to each other in the very center of the dusty street, careful not to get too near the beggar children crowding the sidewalks, and the merchants pushing their wares on anyone who walked by. Everyone seemed to be watching them; Cray felt as though hundreds of green and blue eyes were on her all at once. She was whistled and catcalled at more than she had ever been in at the Home of the White Rose. Twice her behind was grabbed by unseen hands, and once a red-faced man tugged at her red curls and called to his friend, "Found a pretty lass to keep us warm tonight!"

Lefty attracted less crude attention, for she had neither the red hair nor the ivory skin that symbolized the ideal Irish woman. But the baby in her arms was often peered at curiously, by small children and old women, who seemed to find him a very strange creature. She Lefty held Anthony even tighter, and gave an icy look to anyone to looked at him twice.

Both girls were too scared to ask for information about the herbs, and so they went into every shop that looked as if it might sell what they were looking for. After they had visited at least five or six different stores and markets, they came upon a small, aged apothecary with a dark green door. They opened the door and heard the homey sound of a tinkling bell. Cray walked foreword to the counter; it had become her job to ask the first questions.

"What can I do for you miss?" a young man said in his heavy accent from behind the register. Cray smiled sweetly.

"Please sir, do you happen to sell any of these?" she asked, showing him the piece of papers where Jack's messy handwriting had scribbled down the herbs and roots the nurse had named for him. The man looked at the list seriously, drumming his fingers on the wooden counter.

"Cholera, eh?" he said after a while. Cray glanced at Lefty nervously.

"We're just trying to be careful" Lefty said steadily, "in case anything happens." The young man laughed.

"It's alright, I have what you're looking for," he told them as he fished through his jars and boxes of herbs, "nurses from the hospitals in the middle of the city come here, asking for these roots. Ye should be careful; not many shops 'round here'll sell to the non-Irish." He looked at Cray, then Lefty.

"No matter how pretty ye may be" he added, smiling at her. Lefty blushed a bit, which was a bit odd; she had not flushed from a stranger's complement since before she married Race. He turned around again and wrapped their herbs up in a little parcel.

"That'll be two dollars" he said, handing Cray the package. Her mouth dropped as she dug into her pockets for money.

"I know it's a bit much, but it'll help a great deal more than anything you'll get from a doctor" Lefty and Cray combined their change and dumped it out on the counter. As the young man counted it, Cray slipped the parcel into her pocket, and turned for the door.

"I thank you," the young man said. Cray and Lefty smiled at him once more before opening the door.

"One last thing," he called from the counter, "come here lass" he said to Lefty. She walked over to the counter slowly.

"Cover you babe's dark head, the eyes as well," he told her in a low whisper, "'Tis no sight that angers a drunk Irishman more than that of an Italian, no matter how old" Lefty pulled Anthony closer to her chest, and wrapped the blanket around him more tightly.

"God be with you" the young man said as Lefty followed Cray out the door.