GENTLE READERS: Minding other people’s business, which has always been a major etiquette hazard, has taken on the noble mantle of ministering to public health. To the extent that people are out and about, there are also vigilantes who are vehemently scolding strangers, if not making citizens’ arrests.

The rationale is that etiquette is suspended in an emergency.

Well, yes and no. Miss Manners does not quibble with suspending the rule against shouting at strangers when the occasion arises to shout “Help!” But that is a request, however urgent, and not an insult.

In the opposite situation, when one seems to be in danger from others, tact is required -- for the sake of being effective, as well as respectful.

We all know the rules about staying home when sick, keeping our distance and washing our hands. They must be enforced.

But that does not give license to the sort of people who, under normal conditions, would be telling you that you are too fat or too thin, that you should get married or divorced, that you should change jobs or retire, and have or stop having children.

What they are doing now is summarily ordering people to go home, without knowledge of why they are out. Even strict quarantines recognize the need to buy food and medicine, to exercise and to tend to those in severe need.

And never mind that those disciplinarians are outside themselves, or they wouldn’t be within shouting distance.

We all also know that coughing can be lethal. But as any performer can tell you, there are plenty of coughs that don’t harm others, but may arise from asthma, acid reflux or allergies -- or from simply being in an audience. Targeting such people as public enemies is as unhelpful as it is mean. Yes, even at symphony concerts.

But what about those who actually are breaking the basic rules? Then it takes tact to be effective. Reforming strangers only works when it assumes mistaken goodwill (“I think we need more distance here -- that’s not 6 feet”) and allows them to comply without enduring public embarrassment. Even if they deserve to be ashamed of themselves.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I gave my cousin’s son a gift of a 1950s tackle box with many vintage fishing lures. I guess it was not much appreciated, because I never received a thank-you. What can I do about that?

GENTLE READER: Not throw good tackle after bad. Miss Manners believes that ignoring presents is a sign that they are unwelcome.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: We’ll soon be visiting a relative who moved into his home less than a year ago. My wife and I agree that a housewarming gift is appropriate, but agree on little else.

You see, I think one roll of toilet paper is adequate, but my wife feels that I am being cheap. She thinks we should give two rolls, which I think would be ostentatious. Would you please settle this argument? (We’re talking two-ply here.)

GENTLE READER: Tee-hee. But if Miss Manners declared a winner, you would only have to think of another way to amuse yourselves in confinement.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I saw a wonderful show recently, but the first act was nearly ruined by a seating problem.

I settled into my seat at 7:25 with the help of an usher. During the overture, a mother and daughter arrived and sat in the two open seats on my right, about a third of the way down our row. After the show started, another mother and daughter arrived and made their way to the sole remaining seat on our row, on my left.

The woman to my right loudly hissed at me, “You’re in the wrong seat.” I ignored her. She then said, louder, “You’re in their seat.”

I replied, “My ticket is for seat 125. I’m in seat 125.” She asked what row, and I told her row E. On my left, the daughter sat in her mother’s lap for a few scenes, then they left our row for other seats close by (climbing over about a dozen people for a second time while the show was in progress).

Several people around us then started asking the woman on my right to be quiet, as did I. She replied very loudly, “Don’t tell me to be quiet.” Unfortunately, at that point, I did so again. I spent the rest of the first act dreading a confrontation at intermission.

When I have encountered seating problems like this on airplanes or in theaters, I start with the premise that I might be wrong, saying something neutral like, “It seems one of us may be in the wrong seat” or “Did they assign us both the same seat?” Rather than accusing the other person of being wrong, I leave open the possibility that I might be wrong, or that the venue has made a mistake. Being accused of being in the wrong seat, loudly and while the show was underway -- and by someone who had arrived late -- set me off.

When the lights came up at intermission, I told the woman on my right that my ticket was for E-125 and that seemed to be the seat I was sitting in. I asked her what seats her tickets were for. She summoned an usher, who happened to be the same usher who had seated me. The usher looked at my ticket and said that my seat was for the second balcony, and that I was sitting in the first balcony. I apologized to the woman on my right, and told her that this is where I had been seated by the usher. I got my things and left.

I wish that the usher or I had noticed that I was on the wrong level in the first place, or that the woman on my right and her friends had arrived before the show started. We could have sorted this out beforehand and not caused a disruption. But given the circumstances, how could I have handled this better?

GENTLE READER: By not taking Miss Manners on a journey of eight paragraphs before revealing that you were, in fact, wrong.

This does not mean that your fellow theatergoers were in the right. They should have been on time, less noisy and more polite, but those irritants made you impervious to the fact that you were holding them to a standard to which you did not hold yourself. Unfortunately, that cost you a full act, rather than a few minutes, of noisy behavior.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)

DEAR MISS MANNERS: A friend calls out to you in a parking lot. You wave hello, and keep going to your destination. Is it OK just to wave to a friend when you are in a hurry? Or do you have to stop and talk?

GENTLE READER: In our current situation, you could actually be fined for it. That excuse will not last forever, however.

When things return to normal, Miss Manners assures you that as long as you make it clear that it is your schedule, and not your affection, that is in question, it will still be acceptable to keep moving. This can be accomplished by accompanying the wave with a gesture to a (real or imagined) wristwatch and a hurried, but pleasant and apologetic, facial expression. If you are able to follow up later with a phone call or email, it may quell any fears that the friendship was not worth stopping for. Unless of course, that is the actual case.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I often send texts and emails that need an answer, but I get crickets. If I’ve made a request, I’m totally fine with hearing, “Sorry, I can’t do this,” but hearing nothing puts me in a quandary.

I’m pleasant and friendly in tone, so I don’t think I’m putting people off. What’s going on here? Is this the new norm? How can I address these nonresponders?

GENTLE READER: It is endlessly annoying that people seem to find the time to regularly text pictures of goldfish that look like humans, yet somehow are unable to answer direct questions like, “Are we still on for parachuting tomorrow?”

Electronic correspondents tend to be selective in how they define “busy.” Miss Manners suggests that you try calling instead. Although she holds out little hope that this will be any more effective, it does tend to convey more urgency. She further allows you, after a reasonable amount of waiting time, to send a follow-up message that says, “Since I have not heard from you, I assume that you are no longer available,” and make other plans.

Enough rounds of this should either reform your friends -- or demonstrate that they may not be worth the correspondence.

DEAR MISS MANNERS: I was married for more than 50 years and have been widowed for two. I wonder how to refer to certain things and people.

We lived in “our house” and raised “our children.” I still live in the same place, and of course have the same children. But is it now “my house” or still “our house”? Are they “my children” or “our children”? Or are both acceptable?

Just because he is gone does not mean he was not an important partner and part of my life.

GENTLE READER: There must be someone in your life who thinks otherwise, and is helpfully suggesting that you “move on.”

Miss Manners gives you her permission to ignore such pressure. Indeed, the children and house were joint efforts and you may refer to them as such. You may continue to wear your wedding ring if you wish, and use your formal name (i.e., Mrs. Guiseppe McCann), if that is what you were previously called.

(Please send your questions to Miss Manners at her website, www.missmanners.com; to her email, dearmissmanners@gmail.com; or through postal mail to Miss Manners, Andrews McMeel Syndication, 1130 Walnut St., Kansas City, MO 64106.)