DEAR MISS MANNERS: I would like to know the protocol for dating a widower.

The circumstance is that I knew his wife, who passed on, and I am about 14 years younger than he is. It has been nearly a year since she died, but I believe that he and I could enjoy each others' company. He is a wonderful man, and I don't want to miss the boat in case others are looking his way.

GENTLE READER: You must also be aware, then, that such vessels are sometimes seriously overbooked, which has a tendency to buffet them about.

Miss Manners does not want to discourage you from checking to see whether there is room for you to board. She is only suggesting that you should know the drill in case you find it necessary to make a dignified departure.

And she will now disembark from this metaphor.

The protocol is that you can never be sure when, if ever, someone who has been widowed is susceptible to romance. Therefore, you should never make clear that you are embarking (whoops, sorry) on a courtship. What you can do at any stage of his bereavement is to commence a friendship in the hope that it will get warmer and warmer. And that, by the way, is the proper protocol for approaching any courtship.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: In our city, many of the jobs commonly described as "menial" are performed by Mexican and Latin American immigrants. When we dine out, the restaurant bus-people are invariably Latino. My husband has a habit of speaking to these workers in Spanish, although they always address him in English. For example, when the bus-person asks, "Are you finished with your plate?" my husband will respond, "Si, listo."

I believe that this is rude and condescending to the bus-people, because it appears he's assuming that they don't speak English. He believes he is being respectful, because many recent immigrants struggle with the language. I say that even the most recent immigrant has surely learned to understand "yes" and "no," and that the only reason to respond in another language to a question posed in English is when it's clear that the person doesn't understand an English response.

I guess it might be different if my husband were a native Spanish speaker himself, but while he does speak the language well, he learned it in high school.

GENTLE READER: Miss Manners has no objection to your husband's practicing his Spanish. What makes her uneasy is the way you both avoid admitting that this is what he is doing.

If anything is condescending, it is the notion that his choice of language is of emotional importance to someone who is obviously bilingual enough to handle the situation either way.

Rather than conferring a compliment or an insult, Miss Manners imagines that by speaking high school Spanish, your husband is providing the workers with a moment of innocent amusement.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: I bought a signed, numbered print at a small used-furniture store in my town. Badly framed and dusty as it was, it caught my eye. The sticker price was $22, but, since all the cash I had about me was $15, that's what I paid, with the proprietor's approval. I had it reframed, and I love it very much.

Several weeks later, I went into the store again to see what else there might be to tempt me. The owner spotted me and allowed as how I should never again ask for a discount.

Why not? I wondered. I found out that the print was the work of a rather well-known artist and printmaker of the last century. His work regularly sells for prices up to $2,000.

I had no idea what I was buying, and the owner of the shop seems not to hold it against me. (I've spent a bit of money there since). Am I under any obligation to make him whole, or at least a little happier? Or is this a case of "let the seller beware"? It's a small town, and I don't want to leave ill will lying about for passersby to snicker about.

Another recent purchase I made at an auction, I again paid rather less than the stated value. Should I send a note to the artist, telling her how I love the piece and the pride of place it has taken in my home? Or would this be over the top?

GENTLE READER: Would you care to discuss this with Miss Manners during, say, an excursion to a flea market? Perhaps if you used your excellent eye to point out the Rembrandts on the dollar table, she would acquire a vivid feel for your situation.

She seems to recall that there was a legal case of this kind perhaps a year ago. But you have not posed, nor would Miss Manners address, the question of legality. There appears to be good faith on both sides, and the etiquette question is not about ownership, but about rewarding the good sportsmanship of the storekeeper.

Fortunately for you, this does not require returning the painting, paying its value, or coughing up that $7. After all, the hope of finding an undervalued treasure is the great attraction of dusty old shops, and you have demonstrated that you are now a loyal customer for life who will tell the story everywhere. A letter of appreciation in addition, to him as to the other artist whose work you bought, is never over the top.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: A few times when I have met friends or former co-workers for lunch or coffee, I have been asked to join or contribute to various charities.

This past Sunday, I was asked for $35 or "even one dollar would help, and ask your co-workers." Then I was handed a brochure and was told, "These are not cheap, so I hope you really hand them out."

When the lady left, she said, "Thank you, I mean thank you if you join." I felt like I was put on the spot and, had I not known the other people at our table, I would have been embarrassed, since I do not want to contribute to her charity. I would like to say, "This is an inappropriate setting for you to pressure people to contribute," but this is blunt. What would you suggest? My only answer is not to join this woman in a social situation again.

GENTLE READER: Miss Manners agrees that bill collectors do not make relaxing social companions, especially when they are dunning you for something you do not owe. However, you are right that this does not entitle you to correct other people's manners. The statement you need is, "Thank you, but I'm really not interested," accompanied by a firm refusal to discuss the matter.

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Although they are of humble origin and their era of glory is well past, nowadays they will show up only at fancy dinners. Furthermore, they arrive only in time for dessert, make many people feel uneasy and fail to make themselves useful.

Fingerbowls: How do they manage, like people of similar characteristics, to hang on socially long after one might think their time had passed?

Miss Manners admits to a sneaking fondness for the old things and the useless ritual that they require. When fingerbowls are presented on their little doilies, with the dessert fork and spoon on their respective sides of the underlying plate, she welcomes the pause while diners remember to place the bowl and doily to their left and the silver to the sides of the remaining plate in expectation of being offered dessert.

Unless more basic rituals have been violated during the meal, nobody at a formal dinner should need a finger-wash at this point, so the warm water with its pretty petal or two generally remains untouched, as does the doily, which was originally there to be used as a towel. But goodness knows we can all do with a pleasant pause before plowing into dessert.

However, Miss Manners suspects that if fingerbowls don't stop scaring people and figure out how to make themselves useful once again, even these remaining nights of theirs are numbered. They could be spending the rest of their lives in the cupboard, sulking.

It is lonely in there. The old-timers who didn't chip or slink off to the flea market faced their loss of grandeur bravely and devised ways to make themselves acceptable in modern times. Even the table cigarette urns managed to reinvent themselves, for heaven's sake. Once they realized that they would never again be required at grand feasts to offer puffs between courses, they pulled themselves together and asked what a small silver cup had to offer under the new circumstances.

They got jobs holding potpourri or violets. Some managed to earn back a place at the table, where they can occasionally be found holding chocolate sticks, perhaps reunited with their old partners, the tiny silver ashtrays, who found employment holding nuts.

Fingerbowls could be used for cold soups and desserts, but a false pride keeps them clinging to their old job, even though its purpose is long gone. The custom dates from times when refined people not only ate with their fingers but from shared helpings. You wanted to make awfully sure that your dinner partners washed their hands, under those circumstances, and the best proof was witnessing it being done.

From this humble, not to say suspiciously utilitarian, necessity grew the grand ritual of the ewer and the sewer. The ewer was the basin or pitcher containing scented water for a grand ceremonial of cleaning used fingers, and the person privileged to pour this all over important people was also called the ewer, or ewerer. (The sewer was the mealtime chief of staff, and Miss Manners threw him in here just for good measure.)

Whether people are now washing their hands before coming to the table, Miss Manners cannot say, as she does not care to inspect. They at least mostly leave the table no worse than they arrived.

Occasionally, however, finger food, such as corn-on-the-cob and asparagus, are served at informal meals. This is where fingerbowls could make themselves useful again, not only for mopping up, but for making the ritual again familiar and thus removing the panic from formal occasions.

Or, like others with archaic skills, they could resort to working in the fast food industry, where, despite the pitiful efforts of "towelettes," they are badly needed.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I know you frown on "Thanks in advance," but what's wrong with using it informally in an e-mail?

It's commonly understood in e-mail to be a polite way to end a request for information. Everyone does it, and it saves cluttering up the Internet with thanks after receiving the information.

GENTLE READER: As an etiquette argument, "Everyone does it" is more popular with teen-agers than with Miss Manners. She keeps hoping for a higher standard.

The reason that "thanks in advance" is a poor form of politeness is that it is pre-emptive. In theory, at least, the person of whom you make a request is free to decide whether or not to comply. To encourage a favorable response, rather than to assume one, you are supposed to say how much you would appreciate it.

It does not strike Miss Manners as a great burden to add thanks afterward to your e-mailed acknowledgment of receiving what you requested. However, if you have scruples about cluttering the Internet, there is always paper.

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