So quiet, so strong, so gentle! He tried putting other faces beside it, for he saw faces well, this boy, and remembered what he had seen.

He tried Mr.Scraper's face, with the ugly blink to the red eyes, and the two wrinkles between the eyes, and the little nest of spiteful ones that came about his mouth when he was going to be angry; even when he slept--the old gentleman--his hands were clenched tight--how different from that open palm, with its silent welcome!--and his lips pursed up tight.

No! no! that was not a pleasant picture! Well, there was Lena! she was pleasant to look at, surely! Her hair was like silver, and her eyes blue and soft, though they could be sharp, too.

But, somehow, when her face was brought here beside the Skipper's, it looked foolish and empty, and her pretty smile had nothing to say except to bid one look and see how pretty she was, and how becoming blue was to her; and--and, altogether, she would not do at all.
Mr.Bill Hen, then, who was always kind to him, and quite often, when.
Mrs.Pike was not near, would give him a checkerberry lozenge.

Mr.Bill Hen's face was good-natured, to be sure, but oh, how coarse and red and stupid it was beside the fine dark sleeping mask! Why did people look so different, and more when they were asleep than any other time?
Did one's soul come out and kind of play about, and light up the person's face; and if so, was it not evident that the Skipper _was_ a good man?
and that perhaps things were really different in his country, and they had other kinds of Ten Commandments, and--no, but right was right, and it didn't make any difference about countries in that sort of thing.