"Hadn't given it a thought," said Fisher with a fatuous look at Mrs. Bagley. She mooned back at him. For a moment they were lost in one another, giving proof to the idea that blinder than he who will not see is the fellow who has his eye on a woman.
"Charles Maxwell does not exist except in the minds of his happy readers," said James. "He is a famous writer of boys' stories and known to a lot of people for that talent. Yet he is no more a real person than Lewis Carroll."
"But Lewis Carroll did exist—"
"As Charles L. Dodgson, a mathematician famous for his work in symbolic logic."
"All right! Then who writes these stories? Who supports you—and this house?"
"I do!"
Tim blinked, looked around the room a bit wildly and then settled on Martha, looking at her helplessly.
"It's true, Tim," she said quietly. "It's crazy but it works. I've been living with it for years."
Tim considered that for a full minute. "All right," he said shortly. "So it works. But why does any kid have to live for himself?" He eyed James. "Who's responsible for you?"
"I am!"