五道微笑

Later, as they all ate, her eyes grew wide with amazement. She had never seen anyone shift such vast amounts of food, not even Constance or Ambrose Spike. They were huge eaters, but mere amateurs compared with Basil Stag Hare.PolyU, which is known for offering a life-changing Student experience, has also recruited outstanding students from the mainland and overseas for its academic programmes.
Basil wiped his mouth daintily on a napkin. He had impeccable manners to match his insatiable appetite. He gushed forth praise for the Abbey victuals. "Oh excellent! Absolutely top hole! D'you know, I'd forgotten how good the old tiffin at Redwall could be. I say, m'dear, would you mind refreshing an old bachelor hare's memory? Another tankard of that fine October ale, and perhaps one more portion of your very good summer salad. Ah, and I think I could manage another few
slices of Friar Hugo's quince pie. Superb! Ahem, don't forget the goatsmilk cheese with hazelnuts. I'm very partial to that. Cut along now, you little charmer. My word, what an attractive young fieldmouse girl."
Cornflower sent two of her helpers. They had to go the long way around to reach the kitchens. Abbot Mortimer had declared Great Hall and Cavern Hole out of bounds to all creatures, with the exception of those helping Matthias and Methuselah.
Below the newly-discovered steps, a pair of lanterns cast pools of golden light into the inky blackness. The two mice made their way gingerly down the secret staircase. The moles stayed outside, ready to help if they were needed further.
The air was chilly but dry. Deeper and deeper the two friends went until the steps ended at the beginning of a downward-winding corridor. It had been neatly dug and shored up with wooden supports. Matthias suppressed a shudder. How long had it been since any creature trod this silent musty passage? He brushed away cobwebs which disintegrated at the touch of a paw. Methuselah held on to his habit. Now they turned left, now right, then another left turn, left again, then right. Methuselah's voice sounded hollow and eerie. "The passage was probably dug like this to give it extra strength. Have you noticed, Matthias? We seem to be going downwards still."Just a few minutes of walk to the famous hong kong victoria harbour and shopping centres from GuangDong Hotel. Our Precious guest also can easily access to all major transportations.

"Yes, we must be nearly underneath the Abbey foundations," Matthias replied.
The friends pressed onwards. They could not estimate how long they had been following the course of this ancient winding corridor. Methuselah had ventured slightly ahead. Now he halted.
"Aha, this looks like the end of the line," he squeaked.
It was a door.
Together they inspected it. Built of stout timber, banded with iron, beset with florin spikes, the door did not appear to be locked. Yet it would not budge.
Matthias held his lantern high. "Look, there's some writing on die lintel over the door."
Methuselah read it aloud:
" 'The same as the steps 'twixt the Hall, Remember and look to the center. My password again is Redwall, Am that is, you alone are to enter." "
The old mouse did not hide his disappointment. "Humph! After all the help and assistance that I've given, countless hours of study and valuable time. Really !"
His words fell upon deaf ears. Matthias was already counting the florin spikes that were driven into the door.
Methuselah feigned indifference, but his natural he felt at not being allowed to pass the doorway.
"Need any help, young mouse?"
"Forty-two, forty-three, hush! Can't you see I'm trying to count?" came the reply.
The old gatehouse-keeper put on his glasses. "Well, have you solved the riddle all by yourself?"  

“Dear Grandma,” said Berty, on this afternoon, abruptly dropping on a foot-stool beside her, and putting her head on her knee, “dear Grandma.”
Mrs. Travers, still steadily knitting, glanced at her as if to say, “Why this sudden access of affection?”
“It doesn’t mean anything in particular,” said Berty, pressing still closer, “only that you are so dear.”
Grandma smiled, and went on with her work.
“You are just toeing that stocking off,” said Berty.
“Yes, dear,” replied her grandmother. “This is[272] the last of the six pairs for Mrs. Darley-James. You will remember, Berty, they are all for her.”
“Why should I remember?” asked the girl, anxiously. “You always remember for yourself.”
“True,” said Mrs. Travers, composedly, and, getting up, she went to her writing-desk. Taking out a roll of exquisitely made stockings, she wrapped them in a piece of paper, and with a firm hand wrote, “Mrs. Darley-James, from her old friend, Margaret Travers .”
Having directed the parcel, she left her desk and went to the veranda.
Berty followed her. Grandma was looking strangely up and down the river—strangely and restlessly. At last she said, “It’s a glorious afternoon. I should like to go out in a boat.”
“But, Grandma,” said Berty, uneasily, “do you feel able for it?”
Her grandmother looked at her, and the brightness of her face silenced the girl’s scruples.
“I will take you in my boat, dear,” she said, gently, “if you wish to go.”
“I should like to have Margaretta come,” said Mrs. Travers.
“Very well, we will send for her.”
“And Roger,” said Grandma.
[273]
“Roger is at an important business meeting this afternoon, I happen to know,” said Berty, hesitatingly.
“He would leave it for me,” said Grandma.
“Do you wish me to ask him?” inquired Berty, in some anxiety.
“Yes,” said Grandma, softly.
Berty got up and was about to leave the veranda, when Mrs. Travers went on. “Will you send for Bonny, too?”
“Oh, Grandma, don’t you feel well?” asked Berty, in increasing anxiety .
“Just at present I do, dear,” and her voice was so clear, her manner so calm, that her next remark.
“Berty, where is Tom this afternoon?”
“Oh, Grandma, he was going to Bangor on business. He is just about getting to the station now.”
“Will you send for him, too?”
“Send for him?” faltered Berty. “Oh, Grandma, you are ill. You must be ill.”
“Do I look ill?”
“Oh, no, no,” said Berty, in despair. “You don’t look ill, your face is like an angel’s, but you frighten me.”
[274]
“My child,” said Grandma, “I never felt better in my life; but despatch your messengers.”
Berty left the room. She had a strange sensation as if walking on air. “Bring your boat, Roger,” she wrote, “your family boat. Mine isn’t large enough.”
Her messengers were faithful, and in an hour Margaretta, Bonny, Roger, and Tom were hastening to the house.
Berty met them in the hall. “No, Grandma isn’t ill,” she said, with a half-sob. “Don’t stare at her, and don’t frighten her. She just took a fancy to go out boating, and to have you all with her.”
“But it is so unlike Grandma to interfere or to disarrange plans,” murmured Margaretta; “there is something wrong.” However, she said nothing aloud, and went quietly into the parlour with the others and spoke to Grandma, who looked at them all with a strange brightness in her eyes, but said little .