"Now someone is dying," said the little girl softly, for she had been told by her old grandmother - the only person who had ever been kind to her, and who was now dead - that whenever a star falls an immortal spirit returns to God who gave it.
She struck yet another match against the wall.
It flamed up, and, surrounded by its light, appeared before her that same dear grandmother, gentle and loving as always, but bright and happy as she had never looked during her lifetime.
"Grandmother!" exclaimed the child, "Oh, take me with you! I know you will leave me as soon as the match goes out.
You will vanish like the warm fire in the stove, like the splendid New Year's feast, like the beautiful large Christmas tree!" And she hastily lighted all the remaining matches in the bundle, lest her grandmother should disappear.
And the matches burned with such a blaze of splendor, that noonday could scarcely have been brighter.
Never had the good old grandmother looked so tall and stately, so beautiful and kind.
She took the little girl in her arms, and they both flew together - joyfully and gloriously they flew - higher and higher, till they were in that place where neither cold, nor hunger, nor pain is ever known - they were in Paradise.
But in the cold morning hour, crouching in the corner of the wall, the poor little girl was found - her cheeks glowing, her lips smiling - frozen to death on the last night of the Old Year.
The New Year's sun shone on the lifeless child.