Whether Molly knew what reading was, may be questioned.

"Molly," said Daisy lowering her tone in her eagerness,--"would you
like to learn to read yourself?--then, when I am not here, you could see
it all in the book. Wouldn't you like it?"

"Where's books?" said the cripple.

"I will bring the book. And now I must go."

For Daisy knew that a good while had passed; she did not know how long
it was. Before going, however, she went to see about the fire in the
stove. It was burnt down to a few coals; and the kettle was boiling.
Daisy could not leave it so. She fetched more wood and put in, with a
little more kindling; and then, leaving it all right, she was going to
bid Molly good-bye, when she saw that the poor cripple's head had sunk
down on her arms. She looked in that position so forlorn, so lonely and
miserable, that Daisy's heart misgave her. She drew near.

"Molly--" said her sweet little voice, "would you like your tea now? the
water is boiling."

Molly signified that she would.

"Would you like to have me make it?" said Daisy doubtfully, quite afraid
of venturing too far or too fast. But she need not have been afraid.
Molly only pointed with her finger to a wall cupboard and said as
before,--"In there."