Rosy looked over at the fireplace mantel in their great room. There was a tiny seashell, painted bright pink.

“That was a gift from a long-ago Summer Child,” said Rosy. “She gave it to Tinker Bell, or at least that’s how the story goes.” No one was quite sure whether that was true, but they liked to believe it was.

“The Summer Children’s greatest gift was the Fairy Village in Cathedral Pines,” said Clara.

“Pah-pah!” said Squeak.

“Yes, Squeakie. It is rather amazing. Summer Children built our fairy houses, one for every family of fairy sisters who live on Sheepskerry. And it’s those houses we live in to this very day.”

The sisters paused to think about those long-ago days. Their thoughts were interrupted by a clattering din coming from the dock, where the Summer People were arriving on the ferry. Goldie peered out the window. “Now the Summer People are horrible,” she said. “They’re especially horrible on Moving-In Day. We’ll be trapped in this hot house till nightfall because of them.”

“I’m sure they don’t mean to be so thoughtless,” said Rosy.

“I’m sure they do,” said Goldie. “They spoil everything, every year.” And she put her cards down. “It’s no use,” she said. “I can’t concentrate with all this noise. Let’s hide up in Tall Birch and watch them.”

The Summer People were unloading the ferry and carrying all their many possessions up the boardwalks to the cottages. It took a long time, as Sheepskerry Island had no roads and no horrible metal monsters (“They’re called ‘automobiles,’” said Clara), and the Summer People filled up wheelbarrows to bring their boxes and bags, trunks and trinkets, to the cottages on the island. Sylva flew up to a lookout post. “Looks like there are five families this year, so one cottage will be empty,” she called down to her sisters. “That’s a relief.”

“Wuh!” said Squeak.

“Yes, I’d love to do something about it, Squeakie,” said Rosy. “But there’s nothing we can do. We must just put up with them as best we can. Five families is an awful lot.” She sighed. “But I suppose it’s better than six. Be careful up there, Sylva!”

“I wonder why they need to bring so much stuff.”

“And why must they make such a racket?” asked Goldie. “Don’t they know how sensitive we are?”

“Come down at once, Sylva,” called Clara. “You mustn’t be seen.”

“Just one more minute—”

“Now, Sylva,” said Rosy.

Sylva flew down from the birch as her sister told her. “I wouldn’t mind flying into a cottage while they’re in there, just to see what the cottages are like when the Summer People are inside them,” she said. “I could sneak up on—”

“Oh dear me, no,” said Rosy, as crossly as she knew how (which wasn’t very crossly at all). “You mustn’t do anything like that. The Summer People are to be kept away from at all costs.”

“Rosy’s quite right,” said Golden. “If these human people were to see our magic and discover that fairies live here, they’d tell all their friends, who’d come hunt for us with those telescope things—”

“Cameras.”

“Yes, with cameras and torches and rakes and goodness knows what else. And that will be the end of us.”

“But if we—”

“Hush, Sylva, that’s enough,” said Clara in a clipped tone. “You remember what happened on Coombe Meadow Island, don’t you?” Clara didn’t like to have to bring up faraway Coombe Meadow, but she had to stop Sylva’s wild ideas.

The other sisters, even Squeak, fell silent. “Did all the fairies lose their homes?” asked Sylva at last.

“Every one of them. Their houses were trampled, their school was dug up, their queen’s palace was destroyed—” Rosy had to stop for breath.

“—and many of them were chased till they dropped from exhaustion. So it is lucky that they all escaped.” Clara didn’t add “with their lives.” She didn’t need to.

“I thought Summer People were nice to fairies,” said Sylva.

“Oh, they used to be nice to fairies,” said Clara. “When children still believed in fairies.” She sighed. “But those children don’t exist anymore.”

(How I wish Clara knew about you!)

“So if we value our homes and our lives and Sheepskerry Island, we must stay far away.”

“Still, if I was very careful—”

“Sylva, I won’t tell you again. You are not to go near a Summer Cottage or a Summer Dog or a Summer Cat or any of the Summer People. It is simply too dangerous. Do you understand?”

Sylva’s eyes welled up.

“Sylva understands now,” said Rosy gently to Clara. She hated to see Sylva so upset. “Don’t you, Sylva?”

“I guess so.”

“Good,” said Rosy. “Then we’ll all be safe.”

It did not occur to Rosy then, or for a long time afterward, that it might be she who would trespass into the world of the Summer People.