From the bright red wagon proceeded a certain metallic rumbling and clinking as it bowled along , and two or three nests of tin pans on its flat rope-encircled top flashed back the light so dazzlingly that Jedediah seemed the beaming sun of a little planetary system all his own . A new broom sticking up aggressively at each of the four corners gave the wagon a resemblance to a triumphal chariot . Jedediah himself had not been in the tin-peddling business long enough to acquire the apologetic , out-at-elbows appearance which distinguishes a tin pedlar from other kinds of pedlars . In fact , this was his maiden venture in this line ; hence he still looked plump and self-respecting . He had a round red face under his plug hat , twinkling blue eyes , and a little pursed-up mouth , the shape of which was partly due to nature and partly to much whistling . Jedediah 's pudgy body was clothed in a suit of large , light checks , and he wore a bright pink necktie and an amethyst pin . Will I still be believed when I assert that , in spite of all this , Jedediah was full of , and bubbling over with , romance ? Romance cares not for appearances and apparently delights in contradictions . The homely shambling man you pass unnoticed on the street may have , tucked away in his past , a story more exciting and thrilling than anything you have ever read in fiction . So it was , in a measure , with Jedediah ; poor , unknown to fame , afflicted with a double chin and bald spot , reduced to driving a tin-wagon for a living , he yet had his romance and he was still romantic . As Jedediah rode through Amberley he looked about him with interest . He knew it well , although it was fifteen years since he had seen it . He had been born and brought up in Amberley ; he had left it at the age of twenty-five to make his fortune . But Amberley was Amberley still . Jedediah found it hard to believe that it or himself was fifteen years older . `` There 's the Stanton place , '' he said . `` Charlie has painted the house yellow -- it used to be white ; and Bob Hollman has cut the trees down behind the blacksmith forge . Bob never had any poetry in his soul -- no romance , as you might say . He was what you might call a plodder -- you might call him that . Get up , my nag , get up .
There 's the old Harkness place -- seems XXXXX be spruced up considerable .
In although as at for from since than that to