Although Miss Manners is not a member of that vast population described by the telemarketing industry as grateful to be rescued from her own reverie by a cozy voice addressing her as an intimate friend and surprising her by anticipating her wishes as a consumer, she has to agree with one point an industry spokesman has made.

In opposition to the possibility of Congress's passing legislation to establish a national registry of people whom they are forbidden to call, a representative of the telemarketers' trade association pointed out that all such restrictions amount to using the law to deal with actions that do not constitute wrong-doing, but are merely annoying.

Miss Manners also believes that the law should not have to regulate mere annoyances, as opposed to actions that do serious damage. The law has more important things to do, and, anyway, it is not very effective in discouraging petty annoyances. It is helpless to prevent your uncle from smoking in your living room and the neighbors' children from cutting across your lawn. You may dream about your uncle's being condemned as a public health hazard and suing the neighbors' children for property damage to your lawn or mental health damage to yourself, but it is not going to happen.

Annoying behavior is supposed to be regulated by the etiquette system, which can't fine or jail violators, but uses the threat and punishment of social disapproval. Your uncle should respect your house rules because he doesn't want to upset you -- or someone he is more wary about angering, such as your aunt or your mother. The neighbors' children should keep off the grass because they'll get into trouble with their parents, and their parents should respond to your request because they don't want hostile neighbors -- and are seizing the chance to make you make your children turn down their music.

But Miss Manners is forced to admit that the law has had to start regulating petty annoyances over the last few decades in instances where etiquette regulation has failed.

The reason etiquette has failed is that it depends on summoning the good will of the annoyer, or someone with moral authority over the annoyer, to refrain from creating annoyance. This is why its first defense is to assume that the annoyance was unintentional ("Uncle, dear, I'm so sorry, we don't have smoke in the house, but you could have a smoke on the porch") and its second defense is to summon creditable help ("Ma! He's your brother, make him stop!").

When no one cares, or is smart enough to realize that a society where no one cares quickly becomes as unbearable for scofflaws as for their victims, the system doesn't work.

So yes, she is afraid that the telemarketing system is never going to be controlled through etiquette. The industry's position is that it doesn't care if it annoys some people as long as it can make a profit getting to others. Etiquette cannot operate where there is no good will or moral sense or community concern to reach.

Gadgets to stop the calls are proliferating, and all Miss Manners can do is to assure the timid that although she has a total ban on retaliatory rudeness, politeness does not require them to take such calls or, if caught, to hear them through. She has to concede that a national registry of people who want protection from such calls is needed, but also that it will not solve the problem. If you resent the annoyance of these calls, you are not likely to want to interrupt your life even more in order to take legal action against violators.

But if it works, she has another request. She wants her name on a national register that would protect her from having to listen to the clever ploys people have developed to use on telemarketers.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My fiance and I are both in our 40s and have never been married, and so we have nearly all of the things needed to form a household. In fact, we have more than a single house can hold, since we both own our homes.

The problem is how to tactfully say in the invitations that we prefer the Wishing Well Wedding, since we really don't need or want a bunch of gifts.

GENTLE READER: Just now, Miss Manners has another unpleasant message she would like to put tactfully. Hers is: If you have more than you need, perhaps twice over, why aren't you thinking of giving things away to people who are in need, rather than wishing for more?

Oh, dear, she is afraid that some things don't lend themselves to being said gently. A prime example would be: "When you come to our wedding, we're planning to collect money from you."

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: Countless times I have been at weddings, farewell parties, post-premiere cast parties, etc., where various guests have decided -- often, I am certain, without asking the host's permission -- to give a speech. They invariably do this by banging a spoon on a glass, thereby interrupting other people's conversations, which are often far more interesting than the ramblings they are about to be forced to sit through.

I have always felt this to be rude, and have resented being cut off in mid-sentence because someone else feels he has the need to share his thoughts with the entire assemblage of guests.

Am I wrong to feel this way? And if not, is there a way to prevent such behavior? I will soon be giving a large party for my own farewell from my company (I'm the boss, so it's expected of me), and I really do not want my guests or myself to be subjected to a lot of boring speeches.

GENTLE READER: Wait -- as you will be the host, retiree and boss on this occasion, surely those boring speeches on this occasion would be to praise you. Or at any rate, they would be about you.

Miss Manners gives you all the more credit for attempting to head them off. While most people find speeches about others colossally boring, they are apt to think of ones about themselves as being spontaneous outbursts of sincere admiration. Short, thought-out tributes can be heart-warming, but, as you point out, the tedious and misguided sort are more common.

However, being right about feeling that way is one thing, and being able to stop them is another. This cannot be done once someone has lurched to his feet, and even a plea beforehand often inspires someone to pop up and announce, "I just want to say one thing."

Your best hope is to get up and say, "Because I dislike spoiling a good dinner with speeches, I only want to thank you all for making this company what it is, and to tell you how much I will miss you all" and then announce another activity: "And now I'd like to start the dancing" or "and now coffee will be served in the other room."

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Many years ago, I changed my name. While I do not broadcast this fact, neither do I conceal it, and it occasionally comes up in conversation, where it is not uncommon for people to ask why I did it.

My name change was a very personal matter. People who have changed their names tend to feel the same way divorcees typically feel about their past marriages: a divorce is not a secret, but the reasons for a divorce are very private. People generally understand this about divorces, but with name changes, many seem not to.

I've never been sure how to handle it when people ask the reasons for my name change. I would like to give the inquirers the benefit of the doubt, because I truly believe they are making an honest mistake and don't understand that they're asking about something very personal. Do you have any thoughts or suggestions?

GENTLE READER- Miss Manners finds it more graceful to supply an answer -- any answer -- than to argue. Try "My father was a horse thief, and I am trying to escape the shame."

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I was shocked to see a young Olympic contender applauding after her performance on the ice rink. Of late, I have also seen the wives of politicians applaud their husbands' speeches, actors applauding on stage during a curtain call and actors applauding at awards ceremonies.

I dismissed my discomfort as being a spoilsport until, coincidentally, the next day, I watched a biography of President John F. Kennedy on television, and I noticed that his wife Jacqueline did not applaud during his inaugural address, during his memorable "Ask not what your country can do for you" line.

Mrs. Kennedy's behavior is what I was taught as a child -- that it is not permissible to applaud for oneself, nor for any close member of one's family.

Have I got it wrong? Or have times changed? And what about if one's spouse or child wins an award, or if they are participating in a sporting event?

GENTLE READER: Speaking of spoilsports, what you observed may have been an example of the "Hooray for me!" ethic that has replaced sportsmanship. However, it could also have been just a thoughtless example of the general applause inflation that has everyone batting hands together all the time, like so many seals.

That times have indeed changed in these respects does not, however, move Miss Manners to declare public self-congratulation to be correct. Applause is a gesture by which outsiders demonstrate their approval. It should not be used to display one's own conceit, family pride or, in the case of those performing together, mutual admiration.

The proper response, when one receives an award, is modesty. Lowered eyes and a bashful smile will do it in most cases. Blowing kisses back to the audience is not recommended unless you are certain they have gone wild with joy. In the case of family and fellow performers, supporters should beam a look of pride toward the winner.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My sister died recently, much to the dismay of all who knew her. Unfortunately, a few well-wishing friends have used a query that undermines their efforts.

The question is, "Were you and [deceased] close?" If the answer is "Yes", that makes the loss feel all the worse. If the answer is "No," it is a good bet that the distance is a source of regret, and admitting it may suggest the distance is someone's fault.

When I get this line, I reply, "She was my sister," or, for the more persistent, "There's really no good answer to that question," but other survivors might be more taken aback. While you have already addressed "How are you?" in a bereavement situation, would you please remind your gentle readers that this is an even less effective consolation?

GENTLE READER: It certainly is. Some day, one of them is going to get the reply, "No -- we were rivals, and now I've won."

Not from you, Miss Manners trusts. Your response, "She was my sister" is an excellent one, and highly effective if properly delivered. Your eyes and mouth should open in shock when you say this, and the word "sister" should be strongly emphasized to make the point that one does not set a value on relatives.

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