hich is right, to take my
soup-plate from the waitress, or to let her take my empty plate and set
the filled plate in its place herself? And in some houses you are helped
to salad, and in others you have to help yourself when it is handed to
you. Is it rude to ask for a second helping of something you like? or,
when you decline a thing, is it proper to explain that you like it, but
it does not agree with you?"

As to the last of these little worries, my dear child, never do that.
Never tell your hostess or your friends that lobster gives you cramps,
and stuffed olives produce heart-burn, and pastry causes dyspepsia. It
is in the worst taste imaginable to speak of these effects, and wholly
needless. You may always pass over or decline a dish of which you are
not desirous of partaking. It is usually right to ask for a second
helping of some viand which pleases you, and your hostess will consider
herself complimented by your doing this; but the exception is, when the
meal is a formal one of numerous courses, and when you are doing so
would retard the orderly progress of the meal. In doubt about any little
detail, look to your hostess and follow her example. The waitress is
trained to certain ways, and she will do as she is accustomed to; you
have therefore no responsibility.

In talking at the table, if the company is large, you will usually
converse more with your neighbor than with the circle as a whole. But at
home and in the family, or at the house of an intimate friend, you must
do your share of the entertainment. Save up the bright little story and
the witty speech, the funny sayings of a child, the scrap of news in
your Aunt Mary's last letter, and when a good opportunity offers, add
your mite to the general fund of amusement.

There are dear old gentlemen--and old ladies too--who have favorite
stories which they are rather fond of telling. People in their own
families, or among their very intimate acquaintances, hear these stories
more than once--indeed, they sometimes hear them till they become very
familiar. Good manners forbid any showing of this, any look of
impatience or appearance of boredom on the part of the listener. The
really well-bred woman or girl listens to the thrice-told tale, the
well-worn anecdote, says a pleasant word, smiles, forgets that she has
heard it before, and does not allow the dear _raconteur_ to fancy that
the story is being brought out too often. Good manners at the table are
infle