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being dishonest
or untruthful," said Fatty. "You've got a lot of things to learn,
young Ern, and that's one of them."
    "I'll do anything you say. Fatty," said Ern. "Am I
to tell Uncle what we've decided then?"
    Fatty considered. "Well—I can see it's difficult for you,
Ern. If you refuse to say anything, your uncle may be beastly to you. You can
tell him we're all going out to look for houses covered with ivy. Let him make
what he likes of that."
    "But he'll go out and look for them too,"
objected Ern.
    "Well, there's no law against anyone looking for ivy-covered
houses," said Fatty, going out of the shed. "Come on, everyone. Let's
go. Brrr! It's cold out here. Buster, are you coming?"
    Buster certainly was coming. He tore out after the others,
barking, and Fatty locked the door carefully behind them.
    Soon they were all on their bicycles, and rode to the end of
Fatty's lane. There they dismounted at Fatty's command.
    "It would be a waste of time for us all to go together,"
    said Fatty. "We'll go in pairs, and try to examine every road
in Peterswood. Got your notebooks, everyone? As soon as you see an ivy-covered
house, stop. Note if it has a name, or a number, and the street it's in. Don't
bother about new houses anywhere—ivy takes years to grow. We must look
out for an old house. Bets and I will go this way—you others decide which
street you'll explore."
    Bets went off with Fatty, Ern cycled away with Pip, and Daisy and
Larry rode off together. "Meet at this corner in an hour's time!"
yelled Fatty, as they parted.
    Fatty and Bets rode slowly up the first road. "You examine
the houses on one side of the road, and I'll watch the ones on the other,"
said Fatty.
    They cycled along together, but to their disappointment not one
house had any ivy at all growing up the walls. They turned down another road,
and Bets suddenly gave an exclamation. "Here's a house that's green from
top to bottom, Fatty."
    "But not with ivy, Bets, old thing," said Fatty.
"That's creeper—ordinary Virginia creeper. At least, that's what our
gardener calls it. Bad luck!"
    Down another road, riding very slowly this time, as there were big
houses here, standing right back from the road, and difficult to see because of
trees in the front gardens.
    "Here's one covered with ivy!" said Fatty at last.
"Look, Bets!"
    "Yes. But it's got a name on the gate," said Bets.
"See—Barton House."
    "Well, we know we shan't find a house called 'The
Ivies'," said Fatty, "because there's none in the directory. We'll
have to put this down. Bets. Now wait while I get my notebook."
    He took it from his pocket and wrote quickly, Bets peeping over
his shoulder. "Barton Grange. Old house, with ivy almost up to roof. In
Hollins Road."
    He shut his notebook. "Good. That's one ivy-covered
    house, anyway. I wonder if anyone called Smith lives there. We'll
have to find out."
    They only found one more ivy-covered house and that was quite a
small one, in Jordans Road. It had obviously once been a cottage belonging to
the big house nearby, but had been sold, and now had its own little garden, and
a hedge round it.
    "What's it called?" said Fatty. "Oh—it hasn't a
name—just a number. Number 29, Jordans Road. It looks well-kept—nice curtains
at the windows, neat garden. I say. Bets—what about going to ask if people
called Smith live here? You just never know your luck!"
    "You go. Fatty," said Bets, who was always shy of
strange people.
    "Right," said Fatty, and leaned his bicycle against the
trim little hedge. With Buster at his heels he went in at the gate. "I bet
someone called Cholmondley or Montague-Paget lives here," he thought,
"just when I'm looking for a nice short, straightforward Smith!"
    He rang the brightly-polished bell. At once a dog began to bark
inside the house, and Buster stiffened. Fatty picked him up immediately. He
didn't want a dog-fight on the door-step!
    Someone came up the passage to the front door, and it opened. At
once a Pekinese flew out, dancing