Here was a sad dilemma.  I feared that what I was so confident I had secured, would yet be frustrated.  He had accustomed himself to show Mrs. Williams such a degree of humane attention as frequently imposed some restraint upon him; and I knew that if she should be obstinate, he would not stir.  I hastened down-stairs to the blind lady’s room, and told her I was in great uneasiness, for Dr. Johnson had engaged to me to dine this day at Mr. Dilly’s, but that he had told me he had forgotten his engagement, and had ordered dinner at home.  “Yes, sir” (said she, pretty peevishly), “Dr. Johnson is to dine at home.”  “Madam” (said I), “his respect for you is such that I know he will not leave you, unless you absolutely desire it.  But as you have so much of his company, I hope you will be good enough to forego it for a day; as Mr. Dilly is a very worthy man, has frequently had agreeable parties at his house for Dr. Johnson, and will be vexed if the Doctor neglects him to-day.  And then, madam, be pleased to consider my situation:  I carried the message, and I assured Mr. Dilly that Dr. Johnson was to come; and no doubt he has made a dinner, and invited a company, and boasted of the honor he expected to have.  I shall be quite disgraced if the Doctor is not there.”

She gradually softened to my solicitations, which were certainly as earnest as most entreaties to ladies upon any occasion, and was graciously pleased to empower me to tell Dr. Johnson “that, all things considered, she thought he should certainly go.”  I flew back to him, still in dust, and careless of what should be the event, “indifferent in his choice to go or stay;” but as soon as I had announced to him Mrs. Williams’s consent, he roared, “Frank, a clean shirt,” and was very soon dressed.  When I had him fairly seated in a hackney-coach with me, I exulted as much as a fortune-hunter who has got an heiress into a post-chaise with him to set out for Gretna Green.

When we entered Mr. Dilly’s drawing-room, he found himself in the midst of a company he did not know.  I kept myself snug and silent, watching how he would conduct himself.  I observed him whispering to Mr. Dilly, “Who is that gentleman, sir?” “Mr. Arthur Lee.” Johnson—­“Too, too, too” (under his breath), which was one of his habitual mutterings.  Mr. Arthur Lee could not but be very obnoxious to Johnson, for he was not only a patriot but an American.  He was afterwards minister from the United States at the court of Madrid.  “And who is the gentleman in lace?” “Mr. Wilkes, sir.”  This information confounded him still more; he had some difficulty to restrain himself, and taking up a book, sat down upon a window-seat and read, or at least kept his eye upon it intently for some time, till he composed himself.  His feelings, I dare say, were awkward enough.  But he no doubt recollected his having rated me for supposing that he could be at all disconcerted by any company, and he therefore resolutely set himself to behave quite as an easy man of the world, who could adapt himself at once to the disposition and manners of those whom he might chance to meet.