But that evening after his wife had gone to bed, as the ploughman sat finishing his pipe by the fire, he heard the voice from the hole calling as loudly as ever, “Stop! I am coming up.” Again the ploughman quaked with fear, and then he saw coming through the hole something no bigger than a black beetle, and again the voice said in a lower tone, “Now I will begin to grow a little,” and presently the tiny black thing had swelled into the ugly little black woman with the face like india-rubber.
“Listen to me,” she said, “and know that I am beginning to feel very angry. You are beginning to cheat me. Today your wife bought herself a brand-new comb from a pedlar at the door, and never got one for me. Tomorrow evening I must have that comb. I don’t care how you get it, but have it I must.”
The ploughman scratched his head and was sore perplexed. “What on earth am I to do?” he cried, “for my wife will think me very cruel if I take away all the pretty little things she buys for herself.”
“I can’t help that,” answered the gnome. “I have got to have that comb by this time tomorrow night, and I warn you if you begin to deceive me, just as if I were an ordinary human being, I shall pretty soon take myself off,” and with that the gnome disappeared through the hole in an instant.
Next morning at breakfast the wife came down with the new comb in her hair, and said to her husband, “See, husband, I bought this of the pedlar yesterday, and he tells me they are quite the newest fashion, and all the great ladies in town are wearing them.”
“Well,” quoth the ploughman, “such a fashion may be all very well for the great ladies who have scarce any hair of their own, but, for my own part, I had rather see your beautiful hair just as it is without any adornment.”
At this the wife pouted, and was very cross. “ ’Tis too bad of you to say that. I thought you would like your wife to wear all the new fashions, and be smart like other folks.”
“Nay,” cried the ploughman, “my wife is much prettier than other folks, and she looks prettiest of all when she has little to adorn her. If any of these great ladies had hair like yours you may be sure they would pretty soon throw away any combs or caps or pins, so that nothing but their hair should be seen.”
When her husband was gone, the wife went to her glass and looked at herself, and took out the comb and then put it in, and tried it every way. “ ’Tis true, for sure,” said she, “my hair is very beautiful, and maybe it looks best done up as I used to wear it, still it seems a pity not to use the comb when I have bought it.” So when her husband came back, she said to him, “I believe you are right, husband, and it suits me better not to have anything in my hair, but maybe if you are wanting to send a present to that cousin of yours, you would like to send her that comb. It would save buying anything fresh.”
On this the ploughman laughed to himself, but he thanked his wife very much and put the comb in his pocket. In the evening after the wife had gone to bed, the ploughman took it, and put it down by the hole, and then went on smoking his pipe without waiting to see if it disappeared. But in a few minutes he heard the voice crying, “Stop! I am coming up,” and saw again the gnome come through the hole and then begin to grow as before. “Now this is too bad,” cried the ploughman. “What can you want now? Here I have just given you the comb you wanted, and nothing else new has come into the house.” “On the contrary,” answered the gnome, “I consider that you have brought a great many new things into the house since I came to live here, and I mean now to have my choice of some of them, since I do not find that you are honest enough to offer them to me. To begin with, I want your wife’s hair. I have been trying mine with that comb, and I find I can’t make it do at all, and so I mean to have your wife’s.”
“My wife’s!” gasped the ploughman. “You must be mad!”
“Mad or not mad,” replied the gnome, “I mean to have it, and, moreover, it is my due. You married without consulting me, and if I kept you to your bargain, I should have a great deal that I have not got. Certainly your wife has the best head of hair in the house, so you must cut it off near her head and bring it all to me.”
“But whatever shall I say to my wife?” cried the ploughman in distress.
“That is your lookout, not mine,” said the gnome. “Anyhow you have got to give it to me. But as the thought of it seems to annoy you I will give you a week to get it in.”
The ploughman sat and thought and thought, and very sad did he feel at thinking of all his wife’s beautiful hair being given away to the little gnome.
Next day he took his horse and cart, and told his wife he had to go for a long drive on business to a big town, a long way off. It was quite the biggest town in that neighbourhood, and many very fine people lived there. At first the wife wanted to go too, but her husband said it was too far and she would be too tired, as he could not
