She's runnin' down.

She won't ever be any better, unless I can do something.

She's dyin' for the want of a little money, so she can stop work an' go away to some healthier place an' rest.

She is; the Lord knows she is." Mrs.Field's voice was solemn, almost oratorical.
Amanda sat still; her long face looked pallid and quite unmoved in the low light; she was thinking what she could say.
But Mrs.Field went on; she was herself so excited to speech and action, the outward tendency of her own nature was so strong, that she failed to notice the course of another's.

"She is," she repeated, argumentatively, as if Amanda had spoken, or she was acute enough to hear the voice behind silence; "there ain't any use talkin'." There was a pause, a soft wind came into the room, the noise of the frogs grew louder, a whippoorwill called; it seemed as if the wide night were flowing in at the windows.
"What I want to know is," said Mrs.Field, "if you will take Lois in here to meals, an' look after her a week or two.