She unhooked her worn jacket and hung that up too.

Then she tied her apron and sat down to take off her boots.

To take off her boots or to put them on was an agony to her, but it had been an agony for years.

In fact, she was so accustomed to the pain that her face was drawn and screwed up ready for the twinge before she'd so much as untied the laces.

That over, she sat back with a sigh and softly rubbed her knees...
"Gran! Gran!" Her little grandson stood on her lap in his button boots.
He'd just come in from playing in the street.
"Look what a state you've made your gran's skirt into--you wicked boy!" But he put his arms round her neck and rubbed his cheek against hers.
"Gran, gi' us a penny!" he coaxed.
"Be off with you; Gran ain't got no pennies." "Yes, you 'ave." "No, I ain't." "Yes, you 'ave.