young Lawton could not get sight or copy of any such petition anywhere, in the Five Towns or out of them.  Of course there must exist a proper formula, and of course that formula and no other could be employed.  Nobody was bold enough to suggest that young Lawton should commence the petition, “To the Most Noble the Marquis of Welwyn, K.C.B., May it please your Lordship,” and end it, “And your petitioners will ever pray!” and insert between those phrases a simple appeal for the reprieve, with a statement of reasons.  No! the formula consecrated by tradition must be found.  And, after Daniel had arrived a day and a half nearer death, it was found.  A lawyer at Alnwick had the draft of a petition which had secured for a murderer in Northumberland twenty years’ penal servitude instead of sudden death, and on request he lent it to young Lawton.  The prime movers in the petition felt that Daniel Povey was now as good as saved.  Hundreds of forms were printed to receive signatures, and these forms, together with copies of the petition, were laid on the counters of all the principal shops, not merely in Bursley, but in the other towns.  They were also to be found at the offices of the Signal, in railway waiting-rooms, and in the various reading-rooms; and on the second of Daniel’s three Sundays they were exposed in the porches of churches and chapels.  Chapel-keepers and vergers would come to Samuel and ask with the heavy inertia of their stupidity:  “About pens and ink, sir?” These officials had the air of audaciously disturbing the sacrosanct routine of centuries in order to confer a favour.

Samuel continued to improve.  His cough shook him less, and his appetite increased.  Constance allowed him to establish himself in the drawing-room, which was next to the bedroom, and of which the grate was particularly efficient.  Here, in an old winter overcoat, he directed the vast affair of the petition, which grew daily to vaster proportions.  Samuel dreamed of twenty thousand signatures.  Each sheet held twenty signatures, and several times a day he counted the sheets; the supply of forms actually failed once, and Constance herself had to hurry to the printers to order more.  Samuel was put into a passion by this carelessness of the printers.  He offered Cyril sixpence for every sheet of signatures which the boy would obtain.  At first Cyril was too shy to canvass, but his father made him blush, and in a few hours Cyril had developed into an eager canvasser.  One whole day he stayed away from school to canvas.  Altogether he earned over fifteen shillings, quite honestly except that he got a companion to forge a couple of signatures with addresses lacking at the end of a last sheet, generously rewarding him with sixpence, the value of the entire sheet.