Duffy is fun but Duffy is fey and she really hates knitting. It is cider making season and Squire Lovell of Trove rides up to ask for help with all the apples. He comes across Janey Anguin and her stepdaughter, Duffy.

‘Looks like you’re in need of a new pair of stocking, Squire,’ says Duffy mischievously.

‘Are you a good knitter Duffy?’ he asks.

Janey pulls a face and starts to answer but Duffy interrupts her.

‘I’m the finest knitter and spinner for miles around,’ she smiles.

‘You must come to work for me,’ says the Squire, and he gives Duffy his hand.

In no time, she is riding with the Squire away to Trove. At the big house Joan the housekeeper sends Duffy up to the loft to spin yarn. Duffy sits amongst the fleece and begins to laugh, then she begins to cry. ‘Only the Devil himself can help me now. I can’t knit or spin a thing.’

There is a crack of lightening and a vast puff of smoke. As it clears, there stands the Devil himself.

‘Good evening, Duffy,’ he says grandly and grins. ‘I will spin and knit for you. I’m the finest knitter there ever was. But in return, you must enter a bargain. After three years have passed you will leave with me. If, when that time comes, you tell me my name within three guesses, you can stay.’

‘Oh, I agree. Just get on and knit for me, I beg you,’ says Duffy in haste.

‘As you wish, Duffy,’ the Devil sits down to spin. Duffy can’t help noticing a cloven hoof working the pedal. That night, the Devil spins and knits a pile of silky stockings. ‘These Duffy are the strongest stockings in all of Cornwall,’ says the Devil. He hands the stockings to Duffy and disappears.

When morning comes, Duffy takes the stockings to give to the Squire. He puts them on immediately and exclaims at their brilliance. He wears them out hunting that very day. When he returns the Squire marvelled at Duffy’s work.

‘There is not a snag in them Duffy. These are the strongest stocking I’ve ever worn.’

Every night, Duffy climbs to the loft to knit and every night the Devil works for her. He makes the finest shawls, blankets, socks and stockings of a quality never seen before in Trove. Duffy is very happy with the situation; she doesn’t have to knit a thing. There's just one problem - although she likes living in the Squire’s grand house, she misses her sweetheart, Huey Levine. One day, Duffy invites Huey to visit her, and just as they are happily chatting together, they hear the Squire’s horse returning. Duffy hides Huey in the woodpile.

‘I love having you here, Duffy and I love your stockings.’

‘Well Squire, I have something to ask you, I would like to marry my sweetheart, Huey Levine.’

‘My dear, you cannot marry Huey. Take my hand and dance with me.’

Reluctantly, Duffy takes the Squire’s hand and dances with him. All the while thinking of Huey and what he might think. She feels a second pair of hands take her waist and she is whirled faster and faster into a heady dance. The Devil dances with Duffy and the Squire until they feel they can dance no more.

‘Marry me Duffy,’ says the Squire.

Duffy looks to the Devil who nods and she feels she must agree. Duffy doesn’t notice Heuy walking away.

As the Squire’s wife, Duffy is still expected to knit and every day, but the Devil does her work for her. Duffy and the Devil’s knitting is admired far and wide and Duffy is envied. Almost three years pass and although Duffy is grateful to the Devil for his work, she is increasingly uncomfortable in his company. He has a sly sense of humour and smells of a scavenging fox. Even though he dresses like the finest of gentlemen, he doesn’t try to hide his cloven hoof or his ugly tail. Duffy feels desperately unhappy as she dreads her journey with the Devil. She decides she cannot go away with the Devil, she must find out his name. And there is only one person who might help her: Betty the witch.

‘Duffy my dear, how lovely to see you.’

‘Oh Betty, I am in the most awful fix. I have made a pact with the Devil and I must know his name.’

‘Well, what I would say is that you must send the Squire out hunting. When he returns, you must ask him to tell you the tale of what he has seen.'

‘Oh, thank you, Betty,’ says Duffy and runs home to find the her husband..

The Squire is happy to go hunting, he is gone a long while and, on his return, he is even happier to drink the beers Duffy gives him and is soon merrily telling her a tale of the woods.

‘I was chasing a hare into Gambler Grove when I came across a clearing with a big bonfire, and a gathering of witches. I watched in amazement as the Devil himself walked among them. He was drunk as a stoat and danced a merry dance with the witches. Round and round the fire they danced and I watched until my eyes were sore with the smoke from the fire. I was just about to turn my horse and leave before I was seen when the Devil began to sing.

‘I am Taraway! Taraway!’ ‘

Duffy claps her hands in glee. She hugs her husband and they dance a merry dance.

Next day, the Squire goes hunting again and Duffy can hardly contain her excitement. She climbs the ladder to the loft with a huge smile on her face which she quickly hides when she sees the Devil dressed in the smartest clothes she has ever seen, with a travelling coat and staff.

‘Duffy,’ says the Devil. ‘The day has come for you to come with me.’ He holds out his arm for her to take it and gives her a horrible, greedy grin.

‘Not so fast,’ says Duffy. ‘I should like to have my three guesses at your name.’

The Devil looks surprised. ‘Why of course! Guess away.’

Duffy hesitates then takes a deep breath, ‘My first guess is … Bezzlebub.’

The Devil smiles and shakes his head.

‘My second guess is ... Prince Lucifer.’

The Devil roars with laughter.

‘I have one more guess. Your name is ... Tarraway!'

In a flash the Devil gathers his cloak about him and disappears in a cloud of smoke. Duffy looks about her in surprise as all the knitting and spinning he has done turns to soot. Relieved she is rid of the Devil, Duffy waits by the fireside for the Squire to return.

Squire Lovell is in a foul mood, ‘My stockings all but disappeared. I lost them as I was riding. How that happened is beyond me. Duffy, go get me another pair.’

‘Well, that’s just it, you have no others,’ says Duffy quietly.

‘Then you must knit more for me,' he shouts.

'I’m your wife, I do not need to knit anymore.’ says Duffy, even more quietly.

‘That you are Duffy, that you are.’

Trove is also known as Trewoofe

retold by Anna Chorlton

from William Bottrell Traditions and Hearthside Tales of Cornwall Vols 1 and 2