At supper time Mrs. Perkins said, “There’s a bluejay in the yard. I can’t seem to drive her away.”

Amy put down her fork. “Mother, that’s the one I told you about. She’s a tame bird. She wants to come into the house.”

“When I was a boy,” Mr. Perkins said, “I always wanted a parrot. Maybe we could make a pet of this jay.”

“Nonsense.” Amy’s mother gave him a second helping of mashed potatoes. “Bluejays are not nice birds. And this one screams, ‘Thief! Thief!’ every time she sees me.”

Amy’s father laughed. “Maybe you have something that belongs to her.” He got up from the supper table and went to look out of the dining room window. It was still light outdoors. “There’s the bird sitting on the fence. Isn’t she beautiful?”

All at once Mr. Perkins dropped the table napkin he was holding. He ran into the kitchen and out the back door.

Amy and her mother got up from the table and followed him. When they went into the yard they saw Mr. Perkins standing beside the fence. He was holding the bluejay in his hands. “The neighbors’ cat caught her,” he said.

“Oh, the poor thing!” Mrs. Perkins turned her head away. “Is she dead?”

“I can feel her heart beating.” Mr. Perkins stroked the blue feathers. “Let’s take her into the house. She’ll be safer there.”

He carried the jay into the kitchen. Amy ran up to her room and brought down a shoe box. Mrs. Perkins lined the box with cotton and put the bird in it. “We’ll let her rest for a while,” she said. She put the shoe box on the kitchen table. The family went back into the dining room to finish supper.

After the meal they all carried their dishes out to the kitchen and put them into the dishwasher. While Amy’s mother was scrubbing the frying pan, Amy and her father went to look at the bluejay.

“Her eyes are open,” Mr. Perkins said. “I think she’s feeling better.”

Mrs. Perkins put down the frying pan and joined them. “Maybe she’s hungry. Amy, you know where the birdseed is.” She handed Amy an empty peanut butter jar. “You can put some in this.”

Amy took the jar down to the laundry room. The blue broom met her at the foot of the stairs. She poked her bristles into the jar.

“I’m sorry, Wispy. I can’t play with you now,” Amy said. “Be a good girl and don’t get into any mischief.” She went to fill the jar with birdseed from the bag on the clothes dryer.

Amy took the jar of birdseed up to the kitchen. Mr. Perkins tried to get the bluejay to eat it. The bird looked at the seed and wouldn’t open her beak.

“She’s still in a state of shock,” Mrs. Perkins said. “We ought to leave her alone for a while.”

When her mother and father went into the living room to watch television, Amy went down to the laundry room.

“You must be tired, Wispy, after all the flying you did today.” Amy felt the blue bristles. They were quite dry now. She put the broom into the box of rags and turned to go back upstairs.

Something rubbed against her shoulder. It was Wispy. She had hopped out of the box. Amy put her back again. “Go to sleep, Wispy.”

Amy went back up the basement stairs. She turned around before she went into the kitchen. The little broom was gliding behind her.

“Wispy,” Amy said. “I know you want to sleep in my bed, but my mother doesn’t like it.”

The blue bristles drooped. Amy carried the broom back down the stairs and once more put her in the box of rags. When she went back up to the kitchen she clicked the door to the basement stairs shut behind her.

Before she went to bed Amy peeked into the shoe box. The bluejay was fast asleep.