Perhaps it was not a good idea to make feasting the touchstone of cultural identity and respect.

If you are one of us (the test goes), you naturally relish our food. And if you are not one of us, you had better make it clear to us that eating what we offer is the treat of your lifetime. If not, we will be dangerously insulted. Finish up and beg for more, or we'll know you don't love us.

Miss Manners was not consulted when that standard was instituted. It happened somewhere around the dawn of civilization, before she had her coffee.

No doubt it sounded like fun -- the ancient combination of offering hospitality to strangers while sizing them up as candidates to become allies or enemies. Interviews over lunch, as it were. And, incidentally, a great excuse for overdoing it yourself.

Also, it stood to reason: Anyone who doesn't like our cuisine must be nuts. If you find our treats distasteful, or are squeamish about what we consider edible, or show only tepid enthusiasm by limiting your intake -- well, we know what the symbolic meaning of that is.

And so, for thousands of years now, enthusiastic gobbling has been the sign of approval and acceptance. Hosts and parents take pride in offering more than is necessary to merely sate hunger, and consider it their obligation to urge others to keep going after they declare they have reached their limits. At weddings, wakes and holidays, serious eating is expected. Diplomats and politicians understand that it is no small part of their jobs to shovel in the food and shovel out the admiration.

Miss Manners would have no objection if there were not so many who have difficulty participating. Among those whose goodwill is larger than their capacity are now too many people who want to lose weight, or who have medical, religious or philosophical restrictions on what they eat, or who can't help being squeamish about certain things, or who are just plain not that hungry.

Etiquette did institute rules to protect them. It is rude to notice what a guest leaves untouched or unfinished, and while it is hospitable to offer food, it is rude to insist.

But these rules are directed at the providers, and they become too much aglow with their own magnanimity to pay any attention. "Oh, come on," they keep repeating to rising gorges.

The etiquette burden then passes to these reluctant beneficiaries. Their part is to keep repeating "No, thank you" until the bullying stops, but they don't seem to have the staying power. When they know they will be unable to make a meal from what will be provided and still want to attend for social reasons, they should deal with their hunger both before and after the event.

Unfortunately, many have turned to reciprocal rudeness. They call their hosts in advance to order the food they want, they bring their own food, they lecture others on why the food provided is morally or medically bad.

Thus, instead of a legitimate minority deflecting rudeness, they help create the same etiquette-free standoff that exists between nonsmokers and smokers. And Miss Manners cannot stomach another helping of that.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: When did it become against the "law" to wear pearls in the daytime? Is it OK to wear pearls to a big fancy luncheon?

GENTLE READER: Wearing pearls day or night was illegal under periodic sumptuary laws in Venice and Florence between the 16th and 18th centuries, but Miss Manners understands that they have since been repealed. Pearls are now properly worn at any hour. Just don't let her catch you running around decked in diamonds before dusk.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: My brother is in a long-term relationship with another man. A co-worker found this out from another source, and confronted me about it, asking all sorts of details about my brother and his lifestyle.

I smiled and said, "That's kind of personal, and I never asked the details anyway, his business is his business."

Then the co-worker accused me of being ashamed of my brother, not concerned for him, bigoted, uncaring, all sorts of things.

This is not true. I love my brother; we are great friends. I just don't feel it is my right to talk about his sex life to co-workers -- or anyone! What should I have said?

GENTLE READER-- Miss Manners is surprised that you don't know that unsatisfied nosy people always bring up the idea of shame as a second line of attack when the blunt inquiry fails. They must have all learned it together in group therapy.

The response is a calm but weary, "No, it's just that I'm not much of a gossip."

DEAR MISS MANNERS: When my husband and I invited a number of family and friends to our home for a barbecue, one family member arrived two hours early, one couple arrived 45 minutes early, and a second couple arrived 15 minutes early. Both couples indicated that they believed the invitation was for an hour earlier and thought they were actually late. The family member who arrived early is a parent who always arrives early to every event.

My husband handled the early arrivals by treating them coldly. I handled them by apologizing for the confusion and accepting their offers to help with the preparations, simply making the best of the situation and trying to make my guests feel comfortable.

I was upset and terribly embarrassed by my husband's behavior. Since this wasn't the first time he has reacted this way to early-arriving guests, I am reluctant to invite friends and family to our home again -- at least when my husband is home.

My husband believes that one should not arrive one minute before the time specified in the invitation. In fact, he believes that guests should arrive "fashionably late" -- up to 15 minutes after the start of the event. "His" friends have recommended that we not extend another invitation to guests who arrive early.

Please help us resolve this issue. When invited to a dinner (or other timed event) -- whether it is at someone's home or at a restaurant -- shouldn't one arrive at the stated time? Isn't arriving after the beginning of the event only acceptable if the event is a reception or open house, where guests may arrive during a stated period of time?

GENTLE READER: You win by default, because your husband is not allowed to participate in an etiquette debate. Anyone who is cool to his own guests has no business pretending to know anything about manners.

Besides, he uses that odious phrase "fashionably late" -- and there is no such thing. Guests are allowed a small amount of leeway after the stated hour, and should walk around the block if they find they have arrived early, but minor digressions must be tolerated. Anyone more than a few minutes early should be firmly seated with a drink while you go about finishing your preparations.

But guests' arriving early is not a common problem, and when Miss Manners hears that two couples understood the same earlier hour, she becomes suspicious about the hosts' accuracy.

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DEAR MISS MANNERS: What am I supposed to do with an iced tea spoon after stirring my iced tea? Usually, there is no saucer to put it on, and I don't want to leave a spot on the tablecloth.

My husband insists that you said to leave the spoon in the glass while drinking, but, having a history of clumsy, unintentional, self-inflicted wounds, I am truly afraid of the damage I might do. (It's scary enough having to manage sharp objects like knives and forks; please don't make me hold a stick that close to my nose and eyes!)

The same messy spoon problem arises when I'm presented with a mug of tea, except then I also have a dripping teabag to deal with. Where is that supposed to go?

GENTLE READER: Please inform your husband that Miss Manners said no such thing. If she had to choose between drinking with a spoon in the glass and ruining the tablecloth, the tablecloth would have to go. Those are more easily repaired than noses and eyes.

Your hosts should not have forced you to make that choice. Saucers -- or small, silver spoon rests, which were invented at the same time that putting ice into tea was -- should be provided. In their absence, and the absence of any nearby plate or coaster, you may inquire of them where they would like you to park your spoon or (ugh) wet tea bag.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My husband is Iranian and has a thick accent. When we visited some friends whose daughter was playing on the computer, he jokingly said she looked like "a mini hacker." Unfortunately, it came out sounding like "a mini hooker."

Our friends were horrified and insulted -- they started defending her "trendy" clothing and hairstyle to my very confused husband. I told them "she looks lovely" and tried to change the subject, but I feel we have done permanent damage.

My husband didn't realize his mistake until we were driving home, when I told him.

What do we say? I said he should apologize for saying she looked like a "hacker" and hope they will figure out the rest. Please help.

GENTLE READER: Why didn't you help him when you had the chance? Surely it is the first duty of a spouse to throw out a lifeline when husband or wife has ventured out too far and is flailing around helplessly in danger of drowning.

You should have burst immediately into gales of giggles, saying, "Did you think he said 'hooker'? He said 'hacker'! He's talking about her computer skills, not her sweet looks. Honey, do you realize what they think you said?" And he could have added his horrified protest, to the amusement of all.

Now Miss Manners is afraid it will have to be done seriously. Your notion of pretending not to have realized their mistake will be workable if he doesn't just substitute the word -- let's not add any handwriting confusion here -- but apologizes at length, explaining that he did not in the least mean to suggest that their daughter broke into other people's computers.

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