It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Evening came on, the last evening of the year. In all the windows lights were shining, and there was a wonderful smell of roast goose, for it was New Year's Eve. But in the cold and gloom of the streets outside a poor little girl, bareheaded and barefoot, was sitting in a corner formed by two houses, one of which projected farther out into the street than the other. The little girl sat there her cheeks red and her mouth in a smile. The snowflakes had fallen onto her long fair hair, which hung in pretty curls over her neck. Her naked feet were quite red and blue from the cold. She wore a tattered apron with pockets sewn into it and her skin was a tinge bluer than fair. The child sat there, stiff and cold, holding onto matches, of which one bundle was almost burned.

"She wanted to warm herself," I say stumbling onto the scene, "What a poor creature."

I get closer and feel the matchstick girl still breathing, ragged as it may be. As a charitable soul and a Christian at that, I can't leave this child out here in the cold. I scoop up her frail frozen body and wrap her in my coat. I hurry down the snow-covered streets to my home, she'll need a warm bed and hot water.

The matchstick-girl, called out in a tired voice, "Grandma is that you?"

"Don't worry you'll be warm soon," I reassure the girl, though I don't know if my voice reaches her.

I reach my home and clamber inside. I make a ruckus enough to wake my maid Anna who finds me in the guest room making a fire.

"Master, what on earth is going on?" Anna asks yawning in her nightgown and blanket. She puts on her glasses and sees the little girl now bundled up in the bed. "Good heaven's what a happened?" Anna asks as she approaches the girl.

"I found her in the street half-frozen," I say as the fire sparks up.

Anna starts attending to the poor girl as I keep the heat up eventually the color returns to her face, but she seems to have a fever. We care for the girl through the night as she mutters of strange things in her sleep. Her dreams seem pleasant in the very least as I see her smile between the sparks from the fireplace crackling.

Eventually, the light of the new day and the new year shine through the window and illuminate the room. Anna wakes me as it seems I had fallen asleep at my post. I check on the matchstick girl her stirs slightly in the bed. Her eyes open slightly to my great relief and with a cough asks, "Where am I?"

"You are in my home. I had found you near-frozen last night. What is your name?" I ask her.

"${Name}, and yours?" Ask the girl.