Hilary hated babysitting at the Mitchells’ house, though she loved the Mitchell twins. The house was one of those old, creaky Victorian horrors, with a dozen rooms and two sets of stairs. One set led from the front hall and one, which the servants had used back in the 1890s, leading up from the kitchen.
“Do this,” Adam Mitchell had said to her the first time she’d taken them up to bed. He touched one door with his right hand, the next with his left, spun around twice on his right leg, then kissed his fingers one after another. He repeated this ritual three times down the hall to the room he shared with his brother, Andrew.“Once a night, And you’re all right,” he sang in a Munchkin voice.Andrew did the same.
“It’s not dancing, Hilly,” Adam said. “It’s magic.“It keeps Them away,” Andrew added. “We don’t like Them. Grandma showed us how. This was her house first. And her grandmother’s before her. If you do it, They won’t bother you.”she banged on each door and spun around on her right leg, and kissed her fingers, too. It was alot of fun, actually.