OK, Jolly Season's over. Before we enter into the short Season of Wild Abandonment, followed by the even shorter Morning of Remorse & Reform, Miss Manners would like to put in a cruel word.

Next year, give them lumps of coal.

Not your entire holiday list. Only those on it who have indicated that they would prefer not to receive what you have bestowed upon them.

The way to tell if a present had the happy effect that you intended is to pay attention to the recipient's reaction. Did opening it bring on an exclamation of pleasure and gratitude? Were additional appreciative references to it made on subsequent occasions? If you could not hand it over in person, did it inspire an immediate letter of thanks, brimming with enthusiasm?

These responses indicate that you have succeeded. That should be ample incentive to continue, on future occasions, to think of what would be pleasing, to take the time to track it down, to undergo the expense of buying it and to suffer the nuisance of sending it.

Less gratifying are impersonal responses -- those that are late, mechanically rendered and formulaic. A Gentle Reader who chastises Miss Manners for refusing to dumb down the requirement for letters declares that "Thanks for the present" e-mails are "indeed new, modern and acceptable" -- and then pathetically adds, "when you consider the alternative -- nothing!"

Whether only-just-better-than-nothing responses are enough to sustain generosity probably depends on the relationship of giver to recipient. When there are family ties, notoriously those of grandparents to their minimally responsive descendents, disappointment is tempered by the fear that in the absence of presents, there will be no bond left. The response, therefore, is often to resort to that most impersonal and formulaic of presents -- a check.

Checks, however welcome to those who prefer cash to signs of thoughtfulness, at least produce the response of an actual live signature. Unless, of course, your bank has switched to sending you only reproductions of your checks, with the signed back not shown.

Miss Manners' gentle critic is certainly right that a widespread response to receiving presents is silence. A cashed check or a delivery receipt may be the only evidence that the present has been received. How it has been received remains unknown.

An alternative that may be even worse is the consumer complaint. Bestowers of presents are told that what they offered was not to the taste of the recipient, who asks for a receipt or gives it back to be exchanged.

These actions have the virtue of being honest. The beneficiaries of your generosity honestly don't care that you put yourself out for them, and they frankly dislike what you gave. Those who complain that effusive thanks may be faked -- and those who probe to test if they are -- don't know what they are risking.

Miss Manners has been told of numerous methods of stimulating more palatable reactions to the burden of being given presents. The conventional method is to inquire whether the package was lost, but this can no longer be counted upon to prompt shame and apologies in miscreants. Gentle Readers are reporting that they are being told, "Oh, yes, it arrived." Others have tried giving presents of writing paper and stamps, or sending self-addressed envelopes, sometimes with fill-in-the-blanks or complete letters merely to be signed.

This is silly. The whole concept of exchanging presents rather than doing our own shopping is to give others pleasure. If there is no sign of this having worked, one ought to quit doing it.

But Miss Manners is not completely heartless. Give them one more week.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: What is the difference between white tie and black tie? When are each of these called for?

GENTLE READER: In simpler times, going out socially at night called for white tie (black tailcoat with satin lapels; black trousers with one stripe of satin braid; white waistcoat; starched shirt with winged collar; and white pique bowtie), while a casual evening at home required only black tie (black suit with satin or grosgrain faile lapels and -- classically -- double braid on the trousers; pleated shirt; black silk or satin bowtie).

These days, it is the hosts or organizers of the social occasion who make the call. Often, Miss Manners notes, in vain.

:

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Your saying there is an etiquette rule against a lady's accepting valuable jewelry from a gentleman to whom she is not related caused me to think about a diamond necklace I received one Christmas from a man I was dating who admitted he'd been lying to me for five months.

I broke up with him because I knew I could never trust him. Because he's an admitted liar and the bag he gave me the jewelry in said "Sears," I question how valuable the necklace really is, even though he said at the time he was keeping the appraisal certificate in case I ever wanted it.

I do not wear the necklace, nor do I plan to, because of the negative memories, but I had thought that I would be offending him by giving it back, and my father agrees. What do you think in this situation?

GENTLE READER: You mean to say that you don't want to offend a cad who deceived you?

Here Miss Manners spends her life trying to persuade people to refrain from offending the innocent, and you go and pass up a classic opportunity to create a legitimate offense. The grand and satisfying gesture of flinging an engagement ring at a faithless fiance is perhaps the only act of violence that etiquette sanctions. We don't require it, exactly, but we don't discourage it, either. However, we do require returning love token valuables by some delivery system.

True, many ladies pass this up for less benevolent reasons than yours. They want to keep the loot so they are willing to forgo the gesture. You still ought to return the necklace, although you can do it as civilly and kindly as you please. It doesn't sound to Miss Manners as if this would be much of a material sacrifice.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Some weeks ago my house burned, and my family and I lost everything. There have been many people who have responded to this situation with kindness. We have received clothes, towels, linens, dishes, etc. I have promptly replied to these people with a handwritten letter of thanks.

However, there are a couple of people who have decided that we are a good way to dispose of old, broken toys; clothes that are dirty, stained and have holes; and so forth. It seems that they have decided to use us as a means to get rid of their old trash.

I don't appreciate having to deal with other people's garbage at a time when I am grieving over my lost pets, trying to get my children's and my life back together, which keeps me busy from morning to night. That is just one more extra thing to do.

My mother always taught me that it is the thought that counts and I should thank everybody for anything they might give me, but I'm wondering what thought it is that would make someone give me their garbage.

GENTLE READER: You have a plausible theory already, although Miss Manners recommends dropping it. Surely you have enough misfortune to lament without adding this resentment.

Let us presume, instead, that these people saw your need as being for stopgap supplies before you can replace your household goods as you see fit. Believing this takes a bit of doing, as it presumes their conviction that their castoffs are still useful, but let us try, anyway.

You do need to thank them, simply because that is the proper thing for you to do, never mind what they should have done. However, Miss Manners will let you put it as mere thanks for thinking of you, rather than for thinking of what they could unload on you.

:

DEAR MISS MANNERS: At an annual Christmas party sponsored by an organization that I belong to, one female (we will call her Alexa) was making a point of telling others that another woman (call her Briana) has worn the same dress three years in a row to the Christmas party and how tacky it was. I feel that Alexa was the one being rude and tacky. It doesn't change anything, but Alexa is living with Briana's old boyfriend. This is probably the cause of the diarrhea of the mouth in the first place.

I, like most guys, don't pay attention to who wears what, when or where. I am friends with both women and feel, as a friend, I should tell Briana, in a private setting, what was pointed out at the party (not who said it!). I would hate to see her come next year with the same dress, since it has been brought to others' attention. Hopefully, Alexa will see this and learn from her mistake. What is your view on this?

GENTLE READER: That there is more than one troublemaker here, and Miss Manners would appreciate it if you would leave well enough alone.

That Alexa made a catty remark does not reflect badly on her target, who was at least spared from hearing it, but on herself. Now you want to repeat the insult, complete with the tease of refusing to identify the source so that Briana can suspect everyone at the party of hostility. Furthermore, you accept the ridiculous premise that it was blameworthy of Briana to repeat wearing the same dress, presumably a favorite holiday party dress, and you want to "correct" her.

How you think this teaches Alexa a lesson Miss Manners cannot imagine. Her hope is that she can teach you one.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: My wife was performing in the alto section of a very large chorus in Handel's "Messiah," a piece I know well. The seats were general admission, and my son, granddaughter and I found ourselves in the balcony, behind a young attractive couple who were obviously not musicians, but very respectful of the performance.

This happy state of affairs lasted until the intermission. In the second half, the young man began to fondle (my word), or caress or stroke (my wife's words), the young woman, who was totally passive, doing nothing to encourage or discourage his actions.

I tried my very best to ignore what was literally right in front of me. I held up my program to screen it out, but to no avail. My irritation mounted, and I carefully assessed my options:

1) I could get up, leave my seat, disrupt people on the aisle and, inexplicably to my family, find another seat.

2) I could attempt to ignore the behavior.

3) I could fume and fuss internally.

After considerable thought, I decided to speak to the young man after the concert, and was then able to concentrate on the "Hallelujah" chorus. As we were filing out, I carefully took him aside when his companion was not within earshot and told him that his behavior had significantly disturbed my concentration.

His words to me were, "Sir, I am very sorry that you were disturbed; my sincere apologies." I was very impressed with his demeanor, and readily accepted his repeated apologies.

Is it possible that I might have overreacted to the situation itself? Can you think of a better way in which I might have handled it?

GENTLE READER: Congratulations on preserving peace on Earth, or at least in the balcony. Knowing the music crowd well, Miss Manners is grateful that you didn't consider violence. How you feel is not something she wishes or is able to control. What she does care about is that you controlled yourself enough to deliver the rebuke in a way that was apparently inoffensive.

: