So she would stand over him and scold and scold and scold while he, poor devil, toiled and sweated, doing the work of six men.
Time went by and the devil grew thinner and thinner and paler and paler. Gentle Dora begrudged him every mouthful he ate and was forever harping on his enormous appetite.
At last one day she said to him:
"You're simply eating me out of house and home. From now on you will have to board yourself. As I'm an honest woman I'll treat you justly. This year we'll divide the harvest half and half. Which will you have: that which grows above the ground, or that which grows below the ground?"
This sounded fair enough and the devil said:
"Give me the part that grows above the ground."
Thereupon Gentle Dora had the whole farm planted in potatoes and beets and carrots. When the harvest came she gave the devil the tops and herself took all the tubers.
That winter the poor devil would have starved if the neighbors hadn't taken pity on him and fed him.
In the spring Gentle Dora asked him what part of the new crop he wanted.
"This time," he said, "give me the part that grows under the ground."