Part 1 of 2
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.
Montmorency went for that poor cat at the rate of twenty miles an hour; but the cat 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 looked at Montmorency with a gentle, inquiring expression, that said:
“Yes! You want me?”
In the Civil War, Cromwell comprehensively defeated Scottish royalists at the Battle of Dunbar in 1650, and captured Edinburgh. A year later, he defeated Charles II at Worcester, on September 3rd 1651. Many of the vanquished Scots were deported and forced into work in the West Indies and the American colonies.
Précis
According the Jerome, his fox terrier Montmorency came across a black cat in the street, and ran over vey excitedly expecting to bully it without reprisal. However, Jerome noticed anxiously that the Tom, which was uncommonly large and bore the scars of many previous encounters, did not seem very concerned. (50 / 60 words)
Part Two
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 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. 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.”
Précis
Once Montmorency got up close to his intended victim, he quickly came to the conclusion that he had gone out of his league. Jerome imagined that his fox terrier excused himself to the cat very humbly, and claimed that Montmorency reacted nervously to the word ‘cats!’ ever after. (49 / 60 words)