on. In my head I heard the voices of the grass-people. They were not calling out in pain. They were happy.

"Its all right," they whispered, "We have finished our lives. It doesn't matter now. We made our seeds. The new generation can come into the world now."

Their million voices were happy.

When I reached the fence, I was too late. Dad was finishing the last strip. He had the motor-mower at fall throttle without the catcher on. Chewed up stalks were piled up along the fence in a thick, wet mush. When he saw me he smiled.

"I'm doing a little experiment of my own!" he shouted.

I watched until he switched the mower off. Then I went back to Dandy.

"It had to happen, eventually," he said weakly, "Humans can't bear to leave a lawn unmoved." He was lying on his back with his face turned to the sky. "It's the way of all life. It has to die. Sometime."

I kneeled beside him and started to cry.

"But not you!" I sobbed, "I've never had a real brother!"

His face was pale. When he smiled it was like straw moving.

"When I'm gone," he whispered, "You'll know what to do."

His eyes were still pale green but they were fading.

"Do?" I asked, "What are you talking about?"

"Out of death comes life," he said.

He was dead. I lay my head on his chest and cried for a while, then I walked slowly back to the house. The evening darkness was gathering around me, and Mum was coming across the paddock. I hardly heard a word she said.

It was Saturday again. I lay in bed and watched the sun stream in through the window. My bedroom was a jumbled mess as usual It had been three days since my grass-brother left me. I had a circle on the calendar to mark the date when he died.

"Get up!" said Mum, "Its after ten already!"

"Yes Mum."