Do not ask question number two until number one has been answered.

He.—Since our last visit, I have been noticing the faults of my friends in conversation, and I have concluded that the most glaring fault one can have is to ask questions and then not wait for the answers. I have one friend in particular who, whenever he meets me asks in the most solicitous way about my family, my health, etc., and then before I have an opportunity to respond, he proceeds to tell me about himself, his family, his ills, and the like.

She.—I know the species very well. In fact, I have classified my friends according to their respective merits as listeners.

He.—And where have you placed me?

She.—At the head of the list.

He.—As the greatest offender?

She.—No; as the least. You always wait until I answer one question before you ask another.

He.—Thank you. Do I ask many questions?

She.—Not too many. You may have noticed that there are as many persons who ask too few questions as there are who ask too many.

He.—I must say that I had never thought of that.

She.—To ask many questions often indicates an undue amount of curiosity on the part of the questioner; to ask too few, a lack of interest. The reason why some persons are so very prosaic and uninteresting is that they are entirely absorbed in themselves; in consequence, they ask few or no questions whatever, showing that they are not in the least concerned in what interests their friends. There is a happy mean where one shows neither curiosity nor disinterest.

He.—In asking questions, we are apt to stir up a hornet's nest, so to speak, for our friends sometimes respond at such length that we are inclined to wish that we had shown less interest.

She.—That is where it is so necessary to remember the golden rule that we spoke of in our last conversation, namely, AVOID UNNECESSARY DETAILS.

He.—Yes; and as I have already told you, that is why you are always interesting; you never bore one with a "long story."

She.—I usually try to treat all my friends as carefully as if each one bore a tag marked, "This is my busy day; make it short."

He.—Yes; or, "If you have any time to kill, kill your own." At what a rapid pace we live, anyway. People in the country—the peasant class—are never in a hurry. They talk slowly, eat slowly, and work at the same laggard pace.

She.—In other words, they exist, but do not live. They do not enjoy what we enjoy. A daily feast is spread before them, but they do not partake of it. What do they know of glowing sunsets and of moonlit waves; of shaded walks through pathless woods; of narrow streams in-walled with trees? The sunset tells the peasant only of what the weather will bring to his crops; the stretch of velvet through which the streamlet winds, of green pastures for his flocks. But I have gotten away from my subject. In other words, like the bore, I have "side-tracked."

He.—Only what you say does not bore.

She.—You mean, not you.

He.—Nor any one else.

She.—Thank you.

He.—I should thank you, instead. Now, I am to remember, first, that Golden Rule Number I is.: Avoid unnecessary details. Rule Number II.: Do not ask question number two until question number one has been answered; and, furthermore, one must be neither too curious nor too disinterested; that is, one must not ask too few nor too many questions; just enough. I fear that I shall find it difficult to observe this rule, but I shall try to acquire the tact that is necessary for one to have. May I practice the art when with you?

She.—That will be charming, and you may begin at once.