not
given way to it that morning.

We were, as I have said, returning from a dip, and half-way up the High
Street a cat darted out from one of the houses in front of us, and began
to trot across the road. Montmorency gave a cry of joy--the cry of a
stern warrior who sees his enemy given over to his hands--the sort of cry
Cromwell might have uttered when the Scots came down the hill--and flew
after his prey.

His victim was a large black Tom. I never saw a larger cat, nor a more
disreputable-looking cat. It had lost half its tail, one of its ears,
and a fairly appreciable proportion of its nose. It was a long,
sinewy-looking animal. It had a calm, contented air about it.

Montmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of twenty miles an hour;
but the cat did not hurry up--did not seem to have grasped the idea that
its life was in danger. It trotted quietly on until its would-be
assassin was within a yard of it, and then it turned round and sat down
in the middle of the road, and looked at Montmorency with a gentle,
inquiring expression, that said:

"Yes! You want me?"

Montmorency does not lack pluck; but there was something about the look
of that cat that might have chilled the heart of the boldest dog. He
stopped abruptly, and looked back at Tom.

Neither spoke; but the conversation that one could imagine was clearly as
follows:--

THE CAT: "Can I do anything for you?"

MONTMORENCY: "No--no, thanks."

THE CAT: "Don't you mind speaking, if you really want anything, you
know."

MONTMORENCY (_backing down the High Street_): "Oh, no--not at
all--certainly--don't you trouble. I--I am afraid I've made a mistake.
I thought I knew you. Sorry I disturbed you."

THE CAT: "Not at all--quite a pleasure. Sure you don't want anything,
now?"

MONTMORENCY (_still backing_): "Not at all, thanks--not at all--very kind
of you. Good morning."

THE CAT: "Good-morning."

Then the cat rose, and continued his trot; and Montmorency, fitting what
he calls his tail carefully into its groove, came back to us, and took up
an unimportant position in the rear.

To this day, if you say the word "Cats!" to Montmorency, he will visibly
shrink and look up piteously at you, as if to say:

"Please don't."

We did our marketing after breakfast, and revictualled the boat for three
days. George said we ought to take vegetables--that it was unhealthy not
to eat vegetables. He said they were easy enough to cook, and that h