"Let's see what it says about a parasol;" and she turned over her dream-book.
"For a maiden to dream she loses her parasol shows that her sweetheart is false and will never marry her--5, 51, 56." "But you didn't dream about a parasol, Pinky." "That's no matter; it's just as good as a dream.

5, 51, 56 is the row.
Put that down for the second, Fan." As Mrs.Bray was writing out these numbers the clock on the mantel struck five.
"8, 12, 60," said Pinky, turning to the clock; "that's the clock row." And Mrs.Bray put down these figures also.
"That's three rows," said Pinky, "and we want ten." She arose, as she spoke, and going to the front window, looked down upon the street.
"There's an organ-grinder; it's the first thing I saw;" and she came back fingering the leaves of her dream-book.

"Put down 40, 50, 26." Mrs.Bray wrote the numbers on her slip of paper.
"It's November; let's find the November row." Pinky consulted her book again.

"Signifies you will have trouble through life--7, 9, 63.

That's true as preaching; I was born in November, and I've had it all trouble.
How many rows does that make ?" "Five." "Then we will cut cards for the rest;" and Pinky drew a soiled pack from her pocket, shuffled the cards and let her friends cut them.
"Ten of diamonds;" she referred to the dream-book.