When doing business, her staff avoided this Pigpen and her corpse-covered-in-spoiled-mayo stench as much as possible. To dodge tax men, Green (who sometimes used the name of her dog, Curtis, to help her in this cause) constantly uprooted her two Dickensian-dirty children to various cold-water tenements. Green sent those kids to school in hand-me-down rags; when the weather turned cold, she just stuffed their clothes with wadded-up newspaper instead of buying coats.
Now here's where it gets really dark. Her son Ned injured his knee in a sledding accident, and Green refused to pay for medical treatment, forcing him to live in pain for years until the leg turned gangrenous and had to be amputated. In her defense, she held herself to the same standard, for the most part. She suffered a hernia for nearly 20 years before getting the lump of gut meat poked back into place, bitching about the $150 price tag and trying to bail on the bill afterwards.
On one hand, you could say that this all sounds like actual mental illness, but you could just as easily say she was taking the obsessive hoarding of wealth to its logical conclusion. The money brought her no joy or material benefit; she just wanted more and more of it, because at the end of the day, she didn't want anyone else to have it.