By the time the broom landed on Amy’s front stoop the rain had stopped. Jean stood up and shook her dress. “You fly very well bristles-down, Wispy. Why don’t you do it all the time?”

The blue broom wagged at her.

“I guess she still likes to fly her way.” Amy picked up the broom. She put the bluejay under her shirt and tucked the shirt into her jeans.

“It must be past lunch time. I’d better go home.” Jean crossed the street to her own house.

Amy rang the doorbell. Her mother opened the door. She reached for the broom. “I hope you don’t mind if I use your horse to clean the cobwebs out of the furnace room.”

Amy was sure Wispy wouldn’t like it, but she had the bluejay under her shirt. She didn’t want to argue with her mother.

Mrs. Perkins took a good look at Amy. “Goodness! You’re soaking wet. Run up to your room and change. Then you’d better get something to eat. While you were out I baked a batch of brownies.”

Amy felt the bird give an excited little flutter. She went into the house and ran upstairs. “Take it easy, Beryl,” she whispered. “You’ll get a brownie.”

Amy went into her bedroom. She took the bluejay out from under her shirt and put her on top of the dresser. Then she opened a drawer to get a dry pair of jeans and a fresh shirt.

The bird hopped into the drawer. She began to turn over everything in it.

“Don’t mess up the stuff in there, Beryl.” Amy slipped into the jeans and pulled the shirt over her head. “My mother likes me to keep the drawers neat.”

Amy went down to the kitchen. Lunch was all ready for her on the table. She ate the baloney sandwich and the banana and saved the two fat brownies and the glass of milk for last.

Just as she was about to take her first bite of brownie, Amy remembered the bluejay. She jumped up from the table and ran upstairs with the brownie.

Amy went to her bedroom, but the bluejay was no longer there. She looked in the bathroom and in the spare room. Beryl wasn’t there. When Amy went into her parents’ room she found the bird perched on top of her mother’s dresser. The jay had opened the lid of the glass jewel box. She was picking Mrs. Perkins’ earrings out of the box and dropping them on the floor.

“Beryl! Stop that!” Amy grabbed the bird and carried her to her own room.

She put the bluejay on her desk. “I brought you this.” She placed the brownie beside the bird. “If you can’t eat it all, save some for me. Mother only gave me two. And, Beryl, try to be good.”

Amy went back to her parents’ room. She picked up her mother’s earrings and put them in the jewel box.

One of her father’s dresser drawers was partly open. Mr. Perkins’ handkerchiefs and socks were scattered around the room. Amy folded the handkerchiefs and rolled the socks into neat little balls. She put them back into the drawer. When she went out of the room she clicked the door shut behind her.

Mrs. Perkins was in the kitchen. “Finish your milk, Amy,” she said. “You must have liked the brownies. You didn’t leave so much as a crumb.”