"Ten."

"Well, look how he says I'm older than a boy eleven years old."

"That's true," said Isabel. "He does. But isn't some of it true,
Georgie?"

Georgie felt himself to be in a difficulty here, and he was silent.

"Georgie, did you say what he says you did?"

"Which one?"

"Did you tell him to--to--Did you say, 'Go to hell?"

Georgie looked worried for a moment longer; then he brightened.
"Listen here, mamma; grandpa wouldn't wipe his shoe on that ole
story-teller, would he?"

"Georgie, you mustn't--"

"I mean: none of the Ambersons wouldn't have anything to do with him,
would they? He doesn't even know you, does he, mamma?"

"That hasn't anything to do with it."

"Yes, it has! I mean: none of the Amberson family go to see him, and
they never have him come in their house; they wouldn't ask him to, and
they prob'ly wouldn't even let him."