it is better to give than to take

To the airport with Sonia and Sondra.
I dropped 'em at the front gate.
As I hefted their luggage onto the pavement, they murmured behind me along lines suggestive that a small donation to the cause might be in the offing.
"Don't go yet," from Sonia.
"We want to give you something," from Sondra.
Ah thinks I.
A fifty spot at least, surely.
I turn.
Sonia hands Sondra a small bag of cashew nuts which she passes to me.
"What's this?" sez I.
"Nuts," they say almost in unison.
They meet my piercing blue eyed stare with innocent pale greeny grey stares of their own.
I am not for the life of me sure whether they're just giving me a bag of nuts or whether this is some exquisite bittersweet gesture of post modern irony.
They hug me and go.
As I drive away I am sure of one thing.
The merry widows have been greatly misunderstood.