Mr. and Mrs. Perkins went out of the kitchen. As soon as they had gone, Amy picked up the broom to carry it back to the laundry room.

“Watch out, Amy!” Jean ducked.

The bluejay flew over Jean’s head and perched on the broom handle. She started to chatter at the broom. She seemed to be asking Wispy something. Wispy wagged “no.” Then the bluejay looked at Amy and began to chatter again.

“She’s trying to tell me something,” Amy said.

The bird hopped off the broom and flew over to the toaster in the middle of the table.

“I wonder if she’d like some hot buttered toast.” At once Amy felt the broom tip back and forth. She propped Wispy against the table and went to get a slice of bread to drop into the toaster.

The bird sat and waited for the toast to pop up. When it was ready Amy buttered the toast and cut it into small squares. The bluejay picked up each piece with her claws and nibbled it down to the last crumb.

“She acts as if she hadn’t had anything to eat since our picnic the day before yesterday,” Jean said.

While the bird was eating Amy and Jean heard a tapping noise. They looked at the broom. She was doing a happy little dance with the end of her broomstick on the floor.

“Sh-sh, Wispy! Suppose my mother and father come in here!” Amy picked up the little blue broom and carried her down to the laundry room. She came back with her mother’s worn-out old broom and swept up the cornflakes. She propped the broom against the table while she went to get the dustpan.

The bluejay walked across the table to get a better look at the old broom. She tipped her head on one side. Then she hopped down onto the scraggly bristles. She sat there for a minute, like a bird on a nest.

“Look, Amy,” Jean said, “the jay looks right at home on your old broom.”

Suddenly the bird spread her blue wings and fluttered off the bristles. She flew out of the kitchen and through the dining room. Then she winged her way across the living room and up the stairs.

Mr. and Mrs. Perkins were sitting on the living room sofa reading the Sunday paper. When the bird flew through the room, Mrs. Perkins jumped to her feet. She chased after the jay.

Jean and Amy had followed the bird out of the kitchen. Now they ran upstairs to see what was going on.

The bluejay was flying in and out of all the bedrooms.

“She seems to be looking for something,” Jean said.

The jay caught sight of a wastebasket. She flew down into it and started turning over all the trash.

Mrs. Perkins was holding a section of the newspaper. She put the paper over the top of the wastebasket like a lid. Then she picked up the basket. “This bird is quite well enough to go back outdoors.” She took the wastebasket downstairs and went out onto the front stoop. First she closed the big glass front door behind her. Then she took the newspaper off the top of the wastebasket.

Amy’s father had come to the door. Along with Jean and Amy he looked through the glass. They saw the bird fly out of the wastebasket. She flapped up into the sycamore tree in front of the house.

“Thief! Thief!” the bluejay screamed at Amy’s mother.

Mr. Perkins opened the door for Mrs. Perkins to come in. “I’m sure we could have made a pet of that bird,” he said.

“Wild birds belong outdoors,” Mrs. Perkins said. She looked at Jean and Amy. “And so do children on a lovely day like this. Why don’t you take the broom out and play horse with it? That’s all it’s good for.”