Tommy gazed with loving, wondering eyes while Phœbe spoke. He felt as though he understood all she meant as he watched her face. For while she talked it absolutely shone and she looked as though she saw, far in the distance, little Tommy, grown to be a man and a wonderful poet.
After a while Tommy said, suddenly: “Oh, Phœbe, I know what the lovely face in the pool was!”
“Don’t you remember the other day when all us children were in your house and you were telling us those nice stories? Don’t you remember how you told us there was a shining boy or girl in each one of us? I remember all you told us about it and you said it was the real, true self. Our own best self; our bestest goodie. I believe the face in the pool was my bestest goodie; it must have been!”
“Perhaps it was, Tommy. But why do you say ‘bestest goodie’?”
“'Cause ‘bestest’ is the very, _very_ best, and ‘goodie’ is the very nicest, _goodest_ thing. So ‘bestest goodie’ is the very loveliest thing of all!”
“Well, the Shining One is all that, dearie. You have found a very good name for it. Our Shining Self is our ‘Bestest Goodie.’”
Soon the other children came up to Phœbe and Tommy and the party started for home. All the boys and girls had bunches of ferns and flowers and the boys whistled as they walked. The little girls walked along more sedately, all of them clustering around Phœbe who laughed and chatted with them, as gay as the gayest. Tommy, too, was full of fun, as he hopped along, holding on to Phœbe’s hand. All the quiet, sober thought was put aside, and again they were just two happy children with the others.
As the party reached the main street of Weston once more, it was decided, before breaking up, that the ten children—the Weston Ten, as they call themselves—should meet in Phœbe’s house to spend the afternoon two days from that time.
We receive an occasional communication addressed to us with a Post-office box number. Some time before the present Headquarters at 144 Madison Ave., was established the business of the Theosophical Society and the Publishing Co. was transacted through a Post-office Box, but Mr. Judge gave up this box upon removal to the Headquarters at 144 Madison Ave., six years ago, and never afterwards used it. The Theosophical Publishing Co., which was founded by Mr. Judge, is still at 144 Madison Ave., to which address all mail should be directed.