But there was a change in little Roy.  He was no longer the laughing, rosy, healthy child whom Hannah had brought to her cellar.  His blue eyes were heavy, his movements languid, and his fair skin was assuming that waxen tint which Hannah had noticed in Mrs Martin's baby over the way.  Hannah was a strangely ignorant woman, and she never associated this change in little Roy with the drops which he had taken now for three days in succession.  She saw a vast difference in him, but she concluded that such was the way with all children.  Through how many, many changes had her Davie gone?  Why, at his very best he never looked half as healthy as little Roy did at his worst.  No, she was not the least uneasy about the little fellow.  But as he now had grown troublesome and restless at night, she gave him a few more drops from the fatal mixture, and when taking these he went off into feverish and fitful slumber, she congratulated herself on possessing so valuable a remedy.