On the second-floor-back was a dressmaker who could not collect her bills; while in the rear was a laundress who washed for the tenants.

Lastly, there was Mrs.Martha Munger, Stephen Carlin's sister, who occupied the third floor both front and back, over the laundress's quarters, the one chimney serving them both.
While the evil eye of the skylight, despite its dishonorable calling, might have been put to some good use during the day, it can be safely said that it was of no earthly, and for that matter of no heavenly, use during the night.

Nor did anything else in the way of illumination take its place.

My Lady Dowager's patrons were too poor or too stingy to furnish even a single burner up and down the three flights.

The excuse was that the rays of the arc-light, blazing away on the opposite side of the street, were not only powerful enough to shine through the weather-beaten hall door covering the entrance but, still further, to illuminate the rickety staircase--the very staircase up which Stephen Carlin was now groping in answer to Martha's letter.
She had heard his heavy tread on the creaky steps, and was watching for him with the door ajar--an inch at first, and then wide open, her kerosene lamp held over the railing to give him light.
"Oh, but I'm glad you've come, Stephen.