Just opposite Mr. Fairchild's parlour window was a young apple-tree, which had never yet brought forth any fruit; at length it produced two blossoms, from which came two apples. As these apples grew they became very beautiful, and promised to be very fine fruit.
"I desire," said Mr. Fairchild, one morning, to his children, "that none of you touch the apples on that young tree, for I wish to see what kind of fruit they will be when they are quite ripe."
That same evening, as Henry and his sisters were playing in the parlour window, Henry said:
"Those are beautiful apples indeed that are upon that tree."
"Do not look upon them, Henry," said Lucy.
"Why not, Lucy?" asked Henry.
"Because papa has forbidden us to meddle with them."
Henry. "Well, I am not going to meddle with them; I am only looking at them."
Lucy. "Oh! but if you look much at them, you will begin to wish for them, and may be tempted to take them at last."