Little Arthur had a garden of
his own, and in it grew an apple tree, which was then very small, but
to his great joy had upon it two fine rosy-cheeked apples, the first
ones it had produced. Arthur wished to taste of them very much to know
if they were sweet or sour; but he was not a selfish boy, and he says
to his grandmother one morning:
"I think I shall leave my apples on the tree till my birthday, then
papa and mamma and sister Fanny will come and see me, and we will eat
them together."
"'A very good thought," said his grandmother; "and you shall gather
them yourself.'
"It seemed a long time for him to wait; but the birthday came at last,
and in the morning as soon as he was dressed he ran into his garden to
gather his apples; but lo! they were gone. A naughty boy who saw them
hanging on the tree, had climbed over the garden wall and stolen them.
"Arthur felt very sorry about losing his apples, and he began to cry,
but he soon wiped his eyes, and said to his grandmother:
"'It is hard to lose my nice apples, but it was much worse for that
naughty boy to commit so great a sin as to steal them.
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