It was dull, sitting there facing the lonely highway, down which no one ever seemed to pass.

Joyce stood up, looked all around, and then slowly sauntered down the road a short distance.
Here and there in the crevices of the wall blossomed a few hardy wild flowers, which Joyce began to gather as she walked.

"I'll go around this bend in the road and see what's there," she said to herself.

"By that time Marie will surely be done with her messages." No one was in sight in any direction, and feeling that no one could be in hearing distance, either, in such a deserted place, she began to sing.

It was an old Mother Goose rhyme that she hummed over and over, in a low voice at first, but louder as she walked on.
Around the bend in the road there was nothing to be seen but a lonely field where two goats were grazing.