"Dad, I don't want to go," he mutters.
"Have you got something more important to do?" It's the Warning Voice. It means The Belt.
He's gonna play Butch and Sundance with Paul. (He's Sundance, cos he's got yellow hair.) They'll leap off the hayloft 'cliff'. "It's not fair."
"James! Apologise at once!"
"That's all right, Hathaway. Our young James the Just is simply emulating his namesake."
He was named for another saint, for James the 'postle, Father Martin said. But Dad says he mustn't ever ever contradict His Lordship.
His Lordship smiles. "James can have his piano lesson another day."
Twenty-five years later (centuries later; only yesterday), he is back at Crevecoeur. Nothing has changed; everything has changed. There's the hayloft where he played. There's the chapel where he prayed. There's the summerhouse where he was— no, no, he won't think about that.
Here is Miss Scarlett, as lovely as before. Here is Butch Cassidy, answering the door. Here is His Lordship, master of the Hall (master of us all).
"James the Just. That's what we used to call you, wasn't it?"
"I don't remember that, sir."
It's his second lie of the day. The friendly smile was his first.