"Oh, Meg! and ha' she got him still?"  Meg indulged in a short, rather hard laugh.  "Bless yer, Faithy, not a bit o' it; that 'ere little 'un tuk the fever and he died.  I tuk on most bitter after he died, as I did care fur him; yer little Roy put me in mind o' his purty ways! but he's h'all right now, he's with Jesus now--it wor arter he died as I went to Sunday-school and larned 'bout Jesus.  Little Charlie's safe in the arms of Jesus this long time past now."