Then they would talk of the terrible flood which had brought them
together, and how each knew the other's love the moment their eyes had
met, and of the mysterious little child who had been the medium of
their first lovers' kiss.

They had become quite accustomed to the little elf's strange ways, and
he no longer seemed to them to be the half supernatural creature he had
at first appeared. Jovita's mother had at last discovered, she was sure,
that the mysterious frock was nothing more nor less remarkable than a
kind of goat hair woven carefully and fine.

So thus was the little elfin Christchild resolved by the power of
familiarity into the orphan of some German emigrants who had lost their
lives in the great flood; nevertheless, strangers never passed him
without giving a second glance and never heard him sing in his sweet,
odd tones, without wondering.

Crescimir and Jovita were married at Tulucay on the day before Christmas
and walked over the fields to the new house on the knoll by the laurel
tree, the Christchild going with them.

He had decorated his head and frock with blossoms of early mariposas
(calochortus) in honour of the occasion, and his joy seemed
uncontrollable and he skipped over the meadow scarcely seeming to tread
upon the ground.

There was a bright fire in the cottage when they reached it; the fire
was in an open fireplace similar to that which had been in the old
cabin.