DEAR MISS MANNERS: When you want to take the last of anything from the serving plate, can you just take it? Or should you say, as a courtesy, "Would anyone else care for the last piece of chicken?"

I am trying to teach my children decent table manners. If you ask, must each of your siblings say, "No, you go ahead," out of courtesy, even if she or he actually wanted it? If your brother says, "Yes, I want it," must you gracefully allow him to take it, even though he pulls this on you every night?

Does it make a difference if the food is something difficult to split (say, a chicken wing) versus something easy to split (mashed potatoes)?

Does it make a difference whether you are dining at home with your family (still mannerly, of course, but more casual) or a guest at someone else's table? (Maybe the hostess would consider it rude of you to interrupt the conversation with the question?)

GENTLE READER: The rule is that you must leave the last item on the dish for -- you'll never guess whom.

Miss Manners. At least that was the rule in better days. (Better for Miss Manners, that is; worse for everyone else). It was considered greedy-looking to polish off all available food, and children were taught to "leave some for Miss Manners."

A fellow etiquetter, Eleanor Roosevelt, was the one to break the news that Miss Manners' meal ticket had been canceled. In her "Book of Common Sense Etiquette," Roosevelt reported that her grandmother had reversed the rule when she noticed that it wasted food.

Now that you are probably in tears over Miss Manners' travails, she apologizes for digressing. (And thank you, but she always carries her own handkerchief.)

As much as she appreciates your teaching your children table manners, Miss Manners is wary of this little routine. It does not apply in company, because if there is a guest present, the guest should be offered the last piece (without its being called such), and when they are guests, they should wait to be offered. Within the family, you could allow some latitude, while being on the lookout to prevent grabbiness and encourage consideration.

Better yet, teach your children that not everything on the platter has to be finished, and that good children who clear the table and do the dishes are entitled to consume leftovers in the kitchen.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Several friends go online with their computers, but have neither call-waiting or voicemail, nor a second line, and calling their phones often results in a busy signal, a situation that can last for several hours.

If they have called and left a message for me, is it incumbent on me to keep trying to call them back until they are no longer on the phone? Is it rude not to return such calls if one has tried several times to get through? I presume the situation would be the same for a person who spends a lot of time talking on the phone, but using the phone to go online seems to be a far more common occurrence.

GENTLE READER: It depends upon how much you want to reach these people. If you are miffed and don't mind waiting until they realize someone is wrong, Miss Manners admits that you can claim you tried repeatedly, and let it go at that.

Fortunately, we have other means of communication available should you actually want to be in touch. Depending on whether you are more technologically advanced than your friends or less, you could dash off an e-mail or a post card to say, "Tried to reach you but couldn't get through -- call me when you get a chance."

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Before someone comes out with a packaged tour of the 10 Best Horrific Disaster Sites, complete with rides thrillingly simulating the tragedies, Miss Manners would like to establish a few rules for rubber-necking.

Although the immediate issue has to do with onlookers who gather near Ground Zero, the question is a timeless one. From driving by fresh accidents to pacing historic battlefields and graveyards, this is a special kind of tourism that requires special behavior.

And before everyone murmurs, "Yes, yes, we must show respect, what's in the picnic basket?" Miss Manners would like to acknowledge the volatile mix of human emotions that makes this a more complicated matter.

Respect is indeed essential, but the strictness of it varies according to the nature of the event at the site, the amount of time that has passed and whether human remains are present. Another factor is whether the immediately bereaved are likely to be around, and whether rescue work is still being done.

For example, visitors who have been posing for souvenir pictures at Ground Zero, some going so far as to request mourners to pose with their flowers and tears, are clearly being indecent. But Miss Manners is tolerant of students who josh around and take pictures of one another at the supposed place in the Roman Forum where Caesar was murdered. Mrs. Caesar might not be, but that lady was enjoined to be even stricter than Miss Manners.

The element of curiosity that brings people to such a place is routinely condemned, to the extent of being referred to as "morbid curiosity." Miss Manners wonders if the absence of interest would not be harder to take. She finds herself sympathetic with those who are affected enough by the events of their time to be drawn to see for themselves.

Public piety has grown amazingly in the last few years. Not so long ago, rites connected with death were minimized, on the indisputable grounds that the person most concerned was not in a position to appreciate them. But the need for ritualistic recognition of the mystery of death is so strong in humanity -- we even define humanity by evidence of whether prehistoric beings buried their dead ceremoniously -- that it popped up again. Piling up teddy bears may appear to have little in common with black veils and armbands, but they spring from the same feeling.

It is a feeling not unmixed with relief at being alive oneself, Miss Manners realizes. But such a feeling is so jarring to survivors and mourners, even when they feel a twitch of it themselves, that we must observe rules to repress its expression.

Ground Zero, being the scene of a recent national tragedy of enormous scale, as well as the grave site of countless individuals, and a place where disaster work continues to be done, requires a maximum of restraint on the part of visitors. Stay out of the way of workers and mourners, maintain a somber demeanor, speak in low tones, and avoid any comments that might be offensive if overheard.

Anyone for whom that is not sufficient is in the wrong place.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I have been invited to a high school prom, and I plan to wear long gloves. I heard that you are not supposed to take off your gloves once you put them on, even while eating dinner. Please tell me if this is correct or if there are any other etiquette rules I should know about gloves.

GENTLE READER: There are many rules connected with gloves, and there are many items of clothing you are not supposed to take off at a high school prom. But there is no rule that you cannot take off your gloves.

On the contrary, there is an imperative rule that you must remove your gloves when eating. You must also remove them when drinking or smoking, although Miss Manners trusts there are rules against doing either of these on this occasion. You must also never hit anyone across the face with them unless you are prepared to exchange shots at dawn.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: My husband's sister just came into a great deal of money, and to celebrate, she and her husband invited my family to join them on a trip to Disney World -- their treat. We all had a marvelous time.

At the airport on the way home, the airline offered free airline tickets to anyone who would give up their seat on our flight for a later flight that day. I opted to give up my seat. My in-laws dropped my husband off on their way home (we live 10 minutes apart), and I drove our car home from the airport.

Later, I felt that taking advantage of this offer may have been rude -- that I was getting even more free stuff from the generosity of my in-laws.

Should I have flown home with the group? Should I offer my free airline ticket to my in-laws? (It is transferable.)

GENTLE READER: Miss Manners may have a better idea than you do of what is bothering you. It is not exactly the money, and (you may be relieved to hear) she doesn't believe that giving away the ticket is the solution.

What your sister-in-law bought with her windfall was time with you and your family. What you sold for your extra airplane ticket was time with your family.

Granted, being together on an airplane is not exactly quality time. Nevertheless, you did leave them prematurely -- and for a free ticket, at a time when you hadn't even finished using their free ticket.

What your in-laws need from you is not an airplane ticket, but the assurance that you value your time together as much as they do. You should state this and initiate plans to see them, not worrying that an invitation to dinner or a proposal for an excursion to the zoo costs less than the trip. The way to use the airplane ticket to re-enforce this is to say, "I felt bad about leaving you, but I want this toward our all taking another trip together."

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Whatever do you do when a person from your long-ago past unexpectedly confronts you with, "Do you know who I am?"

This is really confounding, particularly when you are at a social gathering, with others around you, enjoying the joke on you.

It happened again yesterday when a woman whom I had not seen in over 25 years, whom I did not then know particularly well, and who is not aging with much grace, confronted me, as I was at a function, chatting with some recently met acquaintances.

"No, you look too old and too fat for me ever to have paid attention to you" came to mind, but I didn't want to be that rude. As I am now in my 70th year, with all my faculties good and sound, I sound like a stumbling idiot as I stand there, fumbling with what to say. What should I say?

GENTLE READER: "How could anyone forget you?"

Should the lady be so rash as to pass up the opportunity to accept this gracefully and ask, "Well, then, who am I?" Miss Manners gives you leave to say gently, "Surely you can tell me."

Your only error is to feel foolish when approached by foolish people.

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