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"What is the matter?" said Uncle James. The yard-boy gathered himself up with a very red face. "I thought you meant to shoot me, sir." Uncle James smiled gently. "May I ask when it became customary for gentlemen to shoot yard-boys?" he said. "Beg pardon, sir," the boy rejoined sheepishly. "There's accidents sometimes."
Two Japanese yard-boys were trimming hibiscus, a third was engaged expertly with the long hedge of night-blooming cereus that was shortly expectant of unfolding in its mysterious night-bloom.
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