Muscatine County, Iowa FAMILY STORIES

Boston Post, Thursday, July 8, 1943
By Mrs. Almira Louise Beckerman
30 High Street, Ipswich, Mass.

THE BOX

    Residents from East Hill to West Hill, in a small Iowa town on the Mississippi, will remember Minnie Travers, the laundress.

     Mornings and evenings she could be seen wheeling a large baby buggy filled with neatly-covered bundles either to be washed or delivered finished.

     Always in the foot of the buggy reposed a shoe box which was old, worn and tied with a piece of blue cotton tape. Year in and year out, the box was there and she guarded it with watchful eye. Once the bully of a crowd of school boys was selected to snatch it, but she caught him and cuffed his ears so soundly that she was let alone.

     Old-time residents remembered when Minnie Travers didn’t have to wash. She lived in a very nice house on Mulberry street, had a husband and a pretty little girl named Anne. An epidemic of La Grippe wiped out her family, and Minnie was left alone.

     Not having been trained for business, and trusting too much she lost her home and the money which was left in the bank. Reserving a few of her best –loved belongings and furnishings, she moved to a small shack by the factories, where she could pick up wood scraps for her stove. Then she started to wash for those who had once been her equals socially.

     Years and years she had washed; then one day they missed her and upon investigation, found her in the morgue. As she had no relatives a number of citizens gathered together to settle her affairs. It was to be Potter’s Field for Minnie, but before she placed there, the committee held a meeting in the office of the most important banker in town. The latter hemmed and hawed a few times, and then he said to the others: “Gentlemen, we are gathered here to settle the affairs of one Minnie Travers. As you know she was once very wealthy, and no one knows just where her money went. Now I have on hand a worn, old box which she always carried with her and was clutched to her breast when she died. I have a strong feeling that it contains the solution to her money loss.”

     He took out the box, shaking it slightly near his ear. Patting it, he said “Ah little box, we will soon know your secret; Gentlemen, lets’ get to work. “

     Around the desk were banker, lawyer, president of the Town Club and Talley Jones, a mouse-like little man, who had not much to say at any time, but who’s opinion was regarded very highly.

     The banker untied the blue tape and lifted out a piece of yellowed newspaper which had been folded and unfolded until it tore as he handled it. It contained a blue-penciled notice of birth of Anne Travers. Next came some locks of her hair in an enveloped-all marked “Anne” at various ages.

     Then there were some doll clothes, a doll’s comb, brush and nursing bottle - then the doll, very worn and old, but drapped carefully in a piece of cloth. In the bottom of the box was a small Testament, on the fly-leaf of which was written “Anne Travers, Her Book, Tenth Birthday.”

     That was all. The banker, mad and purpled faced, shoved the stuff in a bunch; picked up his hat and said, “Good evening, Gentlemen.” The lawyer and the President of the Club followed suit, leaving Tailey Jones alone. Quietly and sadly he replaced each article in the box. A tear fell upon the lid as he tied it. Perhaps he was thinking of his own loved child who had been taken so suddenly from her play.

     He took the box under his arm, put on his hat: turned off the lights, and left the office to go to the “Parlor” where Minnie Travers was waiting for the bed in Potter’s Field.

     “Bob”, he said to the attendant, “Put this at her feet. She carried it so many years, it might make her happy to have it with her. Perhaps she can give it to little Anne.”